#(( He does Not anticipate anything Funny in the recipe-- )) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

izvmimi · 1 year ago

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Fall Special

cw: crack which suddenly turns into angst. multiple characters involved but this is vil and azul focused, the remainder have unnamed characters associated with them. night raven college is a college au! mentions of cheating and some toxic behavior. mild violence. 3.2k words. a/n: this started off as a joke and went too far lmfaoooo

Fall has truly fallen all throughout NRC and the slow ramp-up of classes before final exams has everyone somewhat on edge. This, of course, makes it the perfect time for the Mostro lounge to announce its highly anticipated cold-weather and warm-drinks autumnal event. Fliers have been posted all throughout the halls of Night Raven from the potionology wings to the halls of technomancy, and nearly everyone is buzzing about it.

You and Vil likely won’t be attending, not because you are uninterested, but because things are still somewhat dicey after all that transpired at the end of your first year, particularly at the spring ball, and also because Azul still has a bone to pick with the two of you. As you and Vil both walk down in step from your last course of the evening, the brightly decorated posted advertisements cannot help but interest you and finally you bite, stopping at the end of a hallway and stepping a little closer to a particularly large poster just outside one of the restrooms.

And that’s when you realize.

“No fucking way.”

Vil quickly finds himself beside you and starts to read the poster as well, and when he gets to the same line, the line advertising the drink specials, you can practically feel his blood boil. Before you can say anything, Vil has snatched the poster down with a loud rip, and he’s proceeding to go down the line, tearing off any and all fliers he can see, muttering to himself.

“If he thinks he can just say anything the fuck he wants to say, he’ll absolutely deal with me,” he says under his breath, tearing sheet after sheet and crumpling it into small crumpled balls of paper he throws behind him. “The sheer audacity to make up a reality! The sheer nerve! Why I oughta make calamari out of him! Sashimi! Inky pasta! Does he truly find this shit funny?”

You on the other hand are frozen in place, the sheer embarrassment like a leaden weight throughout your body. After all, Azul has found a way to label you as a cheater to the entire student body in a much more sinister way than just rumors.

‘Cheater Tea and Homewrecker Biscuits’ is the special combo he’s introducing that night, and what’s more is that he clearly designates that this is a renaming of the popular special that had initially borne your name. The sneaky octopus is using a drink that carries your name and is your special recipe, to insult you, after all this time.

While you continue to reckon with the fact that Azul is telling the entire student body that you’re evil incarnate still, Vil is still ripping through the walls like the Tasmanian devil, and he’s so far down the hall that you can barely see him any more than a flurry of blonde and purple. Clenching your fist as your shock gives way to irritation, you decide you’re definitely going to appear at the Mostro lounge that night, if only to give Azul Ashengrotto a piece of your fucking mind.

—

“Okay, we’re going to be cool when we show up, okay?” you remind Vil as you make your way just feet before the entrance of Mostro lounge, where the eel twins, Floyd and Jade, stand at guard as though they were bouncers. As this is a restaurant on campus grounds technically, they should not technically have the right to refuse anyone admission, but from their crisp, decorated suits and pleasant but malicious expressions, it’s very clear that they don’t intend to follow any rules.

Vil still somehow manages to be angry despite the fact that he’s just had an entire outfit change from outside of his school uniform, his redone eye makeup threatening to crease with every glare.

“Azul doesn’t know what the definition of cool is, so why should I?” he asks.

His irritation is vindicating to you, and he’s right after all, what kind of psychopath behaves like this? You’ve already told him countless times that you did not cheat, everyone you know knows that you did not cheat, but Azul remains slighted and will not let go of your reputation.

Vil marches first, and you follow quickly behind.

It doesn’t take long for Vil to have grabbed Floyd by the collar.

“Where is that snake?��

“Octopus.” Jade corrects, grinning at Vil from the side. Floyd is also smiling despite the tense grip of Vil’s nails on his fine suit.

“Are you going to teach me some fighting moves?” he asks, the slippery nature of his words aggravating Vil further.

“You think this is a joke, don’t you?”

Jade giggles.

“I don’t know what you’re mad about but probably!” Vil lets go roughly and Floyd resettles with a renewed smile on his face, big enough that it narrows his eyes.

“Reservations?” he asks.

“Reservations?” you repeat. “Since when do you-”

“New rules!” Jade chimes in. The eels look at each other and laugh, and Vil grimaces.

“The flier clearly says this is an open event. We’re going to the bar.” Vil pushes past Jade but Jade quickly steps behind him, a movement as fluid as though he were swimming in the deep sea.

“You have to be on the list?” he grins. You look towards Floyd and he nods emphatically.

“You know damn well there’s no list,” Vil insists. You’re pretty sure this is made up as well, but Jade stays put.

“Boss’ order!” His heterochromatic eyes glint in mischief.

While it’s extremely clear that this is made up, you consider saving yourself the embarrassment of insisting. One night of embarrassment might be enough.

Just then, another group of students show up, a few of them coupled, and Jade welcomes them warmly.

“Right this way,” he motions. You gasp as he doesn’t bother to check a list or a reservation, and Floyd leers again at you from the side. Vil is already untying his shoe to throw before you can hear your friend suddenly call your name, which has Vil pause and look towards the source of the sound.

“___! Vil!” she waves. Her arms are linked with Malleus, who seems surprised but otherwise pleased that you’ve both arrived. Floyd welcomes the two of them and steps aside, but your friend stops and glances at the two of you, unmoving. Vil is practically shaking with irritation and you look exasperated if anything.

“Are you not coming inside?” she asks.

“We don’t have a… reservation.”

She blinks, then she turns to Floyd who might as well be the Cheshire cat. Jade swim-walks around the two of you, placing his shoulders on your back which has Malleus raise an eyebrow, and pushes you gently.

“The festivities don’t start without you, our own very Briar Valley royals! Ignore those two, and-”

Malleus gives Jade a look which has him immediately take his hands off of your friend and she then walks over to you to take your hand.

“Let’s go inside,” she says quickly, figuring out exactly what kind of nonsense the twins are up to. You follow, nodding, and Vil considers throwing his shoe at the eels again then decides that the effort to find and repair such an expensive shoe might not be worth it, opting to shake his head and walk into the restaurant instead.

However, when he sees Azul the math might just work out in shoe-throwing favor.

The restaurant is as lively as you expect, bustling with all manners of students from different houses and different levels. You quickly make your way to the bar, where you can see your mermaid friend who seems to have her hands far too full, wisps of red hair sticking to her forehead as she whips from end to end taking orders. At the bar is Rook sitting on a high-top stool and leaning over the counter, his eyes soft and easy as he watches his girlfriend in genuine distress and offers no help. You see her turn into an open oven, and it looks exactly like the wafers that are now labeled homewrecker biscuits and when she looks up and sees you, you can see all the color drain from her face.

“I CAN EXPLAIN!” she yells. The tray clatters on the table and Rook reaches out to grab one with no abandon but before he can take a bite, Vil has seemingly come out of nowhere, and slapped it out of his hand. Rook looks shocked, but turns and sees Vil, says an “Oh la la Roi du Poison”, raising his hands in defeat. Vil glares at him, and Rook then tuts as he hops off the stool to grab the soiled biscuit, but Vil immediately crushes it with his heel, almost taking out Rook’s hand in the process. Rook frowns now, disappointed as Vil grinds the cracker to dust, but as he looks up, Vil grabs him by the collar.

“Did you really order the homewrecker biscuits?! Are you out of your mind?!”

Rook raises his hands again. “But they are delicious?!”

Vil bares his teeth.

“First of all, why are you in here while I was forced to stand outside?”

Rook blinks.

“Ah? Mais you were stuck outside? How come?”

Not bothering to deal with Rook’s usual treachery, you turn to his partner, who looks like she’s about to duck under the table.

“___, how could you make cheater tea and homewrecker biscuits?” you ask, disappointed. “Don’t you know Azul is talking about me?”

The mermaid reddens almost as much as her hair.

“I really need to fund this makeup obsession, I am so sorry.”

Vil overhears this and he might have said something, but even he has to agree that her makeup looks good. Malleus takes a seat throughout all the commotion and tries to catch the bartender’s attention.

“May I have the cheater tea, please?”

His partner looks at him in genuine shock, as do you, Vil, and Rook, who is actively being shaken like a baby in Vil’s two hands.

“Are you for real, Malleus?” she asks.

“What? It’s my favorite drink,” he says, unblinking. His partner looks at him, then at the bartender, then at him again.

“Malleus please order something else.”

“Why?”

She groans and the bartender uses the opportunity to escape, catching the eye of another couple at the other end of the bar. Cater is the one who calls her over, sly looking as he motions for his date to grab a drink. She’s the same girl from the spring ball, and you’re surprised that he’s managed to catch the interest of the same girl for so long and vice versa.

“What would you like?” your mermaid friend almost gasps out. You can see the fingers of her left hand cross, and read the words “please do not say cheater tea” practically written into the distressed crease on her forehead.

“A…”

She holds her breath as the girl decides.

“London Fog.”

“Oh thank God,” the bartender says, letting herself breathe out finally. You, for whatever reason, are also satisfied, and turn away from your other friend trying to explain to Malleus for the fifth time why he cannot order cheater tea in front of you, but you overhear your friend from Savanaclaw whisper to her partner Trey, “Hey, does the cheater tea taste familiar to you?”

Trey takes a sip of the drink as well.

“Wasn’t this previously called ___ after your friend?”

You watch as they both crunch on homewrecker biscuits and you’re about to start screaming, but just as though Lady Luck was suddenly on your side, the true villain of the hour suddenly appears, clapping his hands for attention as he makes his way down the steps of the entrance.

“My, my, isn’t everyone looking great tonight? How’s everybody doing? Are you all enjoying yourselves?”

The music lowers to let him speak and the crowd turns in his direction, a couple whoops in his direction, and all is well, but then your body moves faster than you can think.

Before you know it, all five fingers of yours and the palm have made it across the dapper host’s face. There are a couple gasps from the crowd and soon there is silence. Azul’s hat and glasses all go flying, the lenses shattered, and his face quickly reddens in your handprint. Malleus stifles a laugh which has his partner shush him in polite panic, and the bartender covers her mouth before another timer goes off, reminding her to collect yet another batch of homewrecker biscuits from the oven.

Trey’s partner whispers ‘Damn’ loud enough for the group to hear and looks at Cater’s will-they won’t-they who is wide-eyed and shocked. Vil looks smug and crosses his arms in pride, despite the stiletto hanging from his left hand.

“You have some fucking nerve,” you hiss.

Azul slowly raises his head up, then smiles, not unlike the eel twins.

“Happy to see you join us, my darling.” In his blue eyes are the tides of dislike, bitterness and envy only. “But where’s your reservation?”

The eel twins take this as their cue to arrive, and Floyd goes to pick up the hat and glasses, repairing the glasses quickly with magic while Jade stands beside Azul in case you consider slapping him again or worse. Vil approaches now and is soon beside you as well. You place a hand in front of him to remind him you can handle it, but tears are forming in your eyes. The rest of the restaurant remains in bated breath.

“Do you think they’re gonna fight?” Rook says, far too loudly. No one answers him. The bartender makes it out from behind the bar and kicks his ankle, finally sick of his antics for the night. He whines but knows to be quiet this time.

Malleus’ partner asks him the same question, but quieter. The implication of her words is asking him to make sure it doesn’t get out of control, but frankly he’s quite entertained. He reaches for a biscuit on the table and bites, crunching loudly.

“You banned me from your restaurant AND slandered me? Don’t you know that I’m the one who came up with that recipe in the first place? Where’s my cut?”

Azul’s eyes widen in pretend surprise. “Ah, yes that! Here!” He stuffs his hands in his pockets as though he’s rummaging then pulls out a closed fist.

“Show me your palm,” he says, and reluctantly you do so. He opens his own closed fist and goes “Voila, nothing!”

Vil immediately swings and Azul dodges, but only because Jade pulls him to the side quickly before his fist can connect. Vil goes for another hit but by this time Rook has already come up to prevent an actual fight from breaking out. Malleus crosses his legs but he’s watching intently, now with less amusement and a slight bit more concern. Trey and Cater watch too, with bated breath.

“This is my recipe and it was a drink we made together. Are you fucking serious?”

“This is my restaurant and that was when I was back in love with you. Are you fucking serious?”

You clench your jaw.

“I NEVER cheated on you!!!”

By now, you’re crying, and the entire restaurant can hear. A few people have started picking up their belongings and are making their way out, and even Cater and Trey have escorted their dates out back to Savanaclaw and Heartslabyul respectively. Malleus and his partner have yet to move, but she’s whispering in his ear about this being a little too private of a matter.

The first group of people makes their way out of the restaurant and Floyd finally decides to announce the inevitable -

“Ladies and gentlemen and beastmen and all those in between and neither, we will now announce that the Mostro lounge will be closed for the night. Any reimbursements will go through us, please contact us through our website. Thank you!”

You’re still shaking now, and Azul’s smile turns bitter and poisonous.

“See how you ruin everything,” he whispers, not letting his eyes fall away from you. Vil is practically vibrating with intent to kill but you ask him to leave, and Rook decides to pull him away. Malleus and his date finally decide that it is probably appropriate to leave too, and she gives you a last look of concern as she finally disappears out, her hand tightly held by his.

“Is this a good time for me to resign?” the bartender asks Rook. Rook tries not to laugh now but he will absolutely laugh later. He whispers to Vil, “promise me you won’t do anything crazy,” in an uncharacteristically serious voice, and Vil admits that he cannot make that promise, but Rook sighs and accepts it. He also leads your mermaid friend out who gives you a half frown and motions for you to call her afterwards.

You can barely see for the tears in your eyes. Collecting yourself takes a few moments, but then you wipe the tears from your face with the back of your hand and straighten up your back.

“If me ruining everything makes it easier for you to rationalize our breakup that’s fine. I’m tired of your games and frankly I don’t have anything to lose anymore. So slander my name all you want Azul.”

Azul has a sneer on his face, but he realizes you’re serious because you turn to Vil and take his hand.

“Let’s go.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to…?” Vil starts but when you shake your head, he understands.

“Just drop it. I’d rather spend time with you.”

Azul looks like he’s been hit in the face with this sentence and there’s a tiny bit of satisfaction that comes to you with that. Vil eyes him but doesn’t raise his fist again; Azul’s face is already swelling.

“Probably should apply ice or you’ll get uglier,” Vil says before leaving. You’re too upset to laugh.

—

Back in Pomefiore, Vil sighs loudly, breaking the silence, as you sit quietly on your bed, letting your racing thoughts paralyze you. He brings you tea, not your own blend of spices, but a regular Earl Grey tea and brings it to your lips. You’ve made a fool of yourself, ruined an entire event, and still somehow you feel like Azul won, even though nothing he’s ever said was true. Perhaps you really are the bad person - he certainly made it seem so.

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “Everyone knows he’s lying.”

You swallow thickly but the warm tea is soothing down your throat anyway. Vil massages your shoulders, and you look at him, eyes still shining brightly although you’ve long since run out of tears.

“I don’t want to be a bad lover… I don’t want to be bad to you,” you say to him.

He nods then kisses your forehead before holding you close.

“You never could be.”

Just knowing that Vil will always be in your corner warms you from the inside out.

#vil x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #azul x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #daydreams: twst #twst x reader #mimi's notes

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wonderfilworld · 4 years ago

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Kitchen Table - F.W.

Fred Weasley x reader where they have some alone time at the burrow.

a/n: this is for a request: “Can you pleasee write a fic about fred x reader(fem) and they are at the burrow making brownies or something (lots of fluff in this part) but then it gets segsy..?”

word count: 2.4k

warnings/contains: NSFW!! smut: unprotected sex, slight mentions of exhibitionism, yeah he fucks you on his kitchen table lol; kissing; cursing; food. As always, if there’s anything I left out please let me know!

Masterlist

It was a sunny, summer day, and the majority of the Weasleys had decided to make a day trip to Diagon Alley while you and Fred opted to stay in. Staying at The Burrow meant absolutely no privacy, so when Molly asked if you wanted to join them on their outing, Fred wrapped his arms around your shoulders and politely informed his mother, I think we’ll stay here and bake brownies, mum.

Molly thought that was a lovely idea and that you should make plenty for everyone to eat for dessert tonight. So, here you and Fred are, mixing ingredients the muggle way because you insisted it’s so much better this way.

It’s a new recipe you’re trying out, the both of you wanted to do something different so you abandoned his family recipe as you copy another one you found in one of his mother’s cookbooks.

“I wonder if it tastes any good,” he says as he dips a finger in the bowl of batter and brings it to his lips. You watch as his cheeks hollow around the digit, and you raise an eyebrow as he hums, “Pretty good.”

You laugh, “Yeah?”

He nods as he dips the same finger in the batter and you scold him, “Fred, quit putting your germs in the food, everyone will be eating those.”

“I’m related to ninety-nine percent of the people in this house, one of whom has the same DNA as me, I think it’ll be fine,” he says. He gets tired of waiting for you to open your mouth, so he puts his finger on your lips and swipes the batter on them. You roll your eyes as you stick your tongue out, licking all that you can to the best of your ability.

“You missed some,” Fred tells you, but instead of bringing his hand to clean it off as you expected, he leans in and plants a kiss on your open mouth.

It’s sticky but you close your eyes anyway, bringing your hand to his face. You expected just a little peck, but what you don’t expect is to feel Fred’s tongue licking at your lips, cleaning the remnants of the brownie batter.

He pulls away, and you give him an irritated look as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “Gross,” you say.

Fred snorts and dips his index and middle finger into the brownie batter once more, brings it up, and smears it across your cheek.

“Fred Weasley!” You shout, slapping his shoulder. He’s laughing now, and you can’t help but join in. “I hate you,” you say, but you both know you don’t really mean it.

He calms his laughter down as he puts a hand to your neck, “Here, let me get it for you.” He leans in, and you put a hand to his chest, stopping him.

“Don’t you dare lick me.”

Fred smirks, “You’ve never seemed to have a problem with my licking before.”

You scoff, and before you can say anything else, Fred’s tongue is licking along the trail of batter he left on your face.

You groan in annoyance before Fred leans back and grabs a towel from the counter. He uses it to clean the rest of the sticky substance off your face before saying, “There, as good as new.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Don’t be like that.”

You shoot him a look of displeasure as you reach for the pan, “Let’s just get these finished already.” You stick them in the oven as Fred sets a timer.

“Well, well, well; how will we ever pass the time?” Fred wiggles his eyebrows at you as he removes his apron and throws it across one of the kitchen chairs. He approaches you and places his hands on your waist. “Any ideas?”

“Nope,” you say. You know what he’s insinuating, but you’d rather play oblivious. You want the same thing he does, but with the brownie batter stunt he pulled earlier, he’ll have to work for it.

“Come on, princess,” he says as he wraps his arms around you, pulling your body flush against his. You wrap yours around his neck as he speaks again, “We have the whole house to ourselves for the first time in days, and you’re telling me there’s nothing you want to do?”

“I’d like to get a shower that lasts longer than ten minutes.”

“Oh, you think you’re funny?”

“I think I’m hilarious,” you retort, and you cup his face in your hands as you lean up to kiss him.

His kisses are slow and sweet at first - they always are. Fred loves the sensualness of kissing; loves the way you whine into his mouth when you want more of him. You’re already gripping his red hair between your fingers because he had a point - you haven’t really had any alone time. Fred is very physically affectionate, and the lack of physical affection he’s been getting lately has become a problem.

He breaks away from the kiss, and you’re already chasing after his lips again when he stops you, “Where’d all that attitude go, huh?”

You tug his hair and you whine, “Kiss me.”

“Princess, I’ve been waiting to get you alone for ages, ‘m gonna do a lot more than just kiss you,” Fred says as he drags his lips across your jaw. “Gonna make you feel so good, hm?”

“Please,” you whisper. You’re needy now, don’t feel like teasing anymore and you just want to have your boyfriend again - with you, on you, in you.

Fred’s lips are leaving a wet trail of kisses down the side of your neck and you tug his hair again. He leans back, looking at the way your neck glistens with his spit as he speaks, “Stop doing that,” he growls.

He reaches down and slips his hand under the waistband of your pants, fingers finding your clit as he rubs you over your panties. He can feel how wet you are, and he leans down to capture your lips once again. He kisses you for a minute or two longer before he pulls away.

He smiles to himself as he looks at you, your eyes are closed as his fingers toy with your clit. They’ve slipped under your panties now, and the feeling of his rough fingers rubbing the most sensitive part of you has you squirming. “You know, your dripping pussy doesn’t exactly scream ‘I hate you, Fred’.” He says, mimicking your disapproving tone from earlier. “But maybe that’s just me.”

He slips his middle finger into you then, thick finger stretching your cunt. You drop your mouth open and let out a quiet moan. You open your eyes and can see the way Fred watches your face as he fucks you with his finger. He takes in every time your eyes widen when he touches the spongy spot inside of you; every time you gasp when his thumb rubs your clit.

“You want it?” He questions, and you have to close your eyes again as he presses his thumb against your clit, as he pets the sensitive spot inside you. You nod your head before you lean forward to rest it on his shoulder. You watch as his fingers start to move again, can see how his hand moves beneath your pants and the sight makes you moan and your hips start to move in time with his fingers.

“Beg for my cock, baby. You gotta beg for it if you want me to give it to you.” He says, and his fingers speed up, and he can feel the way your cunt tightens around them.

Maybe it’s because his fingers are moving so fast now, thumb rubbing your clit in tight circles; or maybe it’s the fact that you’re in his family’s kitchen, three feet away from where you all sit to eat every day that impairs your ability to speak. Either way, you can’t respond to him, so Fred pulls his fingers from your cunt, and out of your pants. He brings them to his lips and sucks them clean, the same way he cleaned the brownie batter from them earlier. “Better than the brownies,” he announces with a wink.

Your cheeks heat up, near burning as you speak, “Please, Fred.” You’re desperate, and you’re aware in the back of your mind that his family could show up at any moment. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

“Guess you better get to begging then.”

You groan, because once Fred sets his mind to something it’s set in stone, so you know he won’t give you what you want until you give him what he wants.

“I need,” you start, bringing a hand down to the front of his pants, fingers grazing his cock that’s straining against the material, “for you to fuck me.” You squeeze him gently then and take in the way it knocks the breath out of him when you do so.

And he realizes that you two are on borrowed time as well, knows that it’s definitely not a smart idea to carry this any further in his fucking kitchen, but Fred’s always been a little wilder than most, and he can’t say that he doesn’t want to lay you down on his kitchen table and pound into you until you’re a crying mess; can’t say he doesn’t want to be reminded of your sweet cunt every time he walks into the kitchen and remembers this moment.

So, he walks you over to the table and before he picks you up to sit on it he pulls your pants and underwear down, helping you remove them completely. You don’t question him - mainly because the desire to have him is just so overwhelming - all you can think about is the way your core pulses in anticipation to finally have your boyfriend fucking into you after so long without him.

He sets you on the table and pushes you to lie down, doesn’t even bother removing your shirt or teasing you any longer, and he pops the button on his own jeans and lowers the zipper. He brings his cock out, giving himself a couple of strokes as he kneads the flesh of your thigh. Fred runs the tip of it through your folds, groaning at how wet you are for him.

He taps his cock against your clit before he speaks, “Say please again.”

You look at him, your hand covering the one of his that’s on your thigh as you feel the tip of his cock press against your entrance. Your voice is quiet; timid, as you reply, “Please.”

He pushes in then, mouth dropping open at how fucking good it feels. It really has been too long, and you moan loudly as he settles all the way in, cunt clenching around him as you get used to his size.

Fred suddenly remembers how loud you can get, and while he may be literally fucking you on his kitchen table, he would at least like to prevent his family from hearing you scream his name if they return home early, so he brings one of his hands to your face and sticks two of his fingers in your mouth. He starts a steady rhythm of his hips into yours, and groans as he feels you suck on his fingers, not even questioning their intrusion. You still moan as his cock fucks into you but it’s muffled around his digits as he presses down on your tongue.

“Gotta stay quiet, baby, you don’t want my family coming home and hearing you getting fucked like a whore, do you?” He asks as he snaps his hips into you.

You try to shake your head no as best as you can, your hips are moving up to meet each of his thrusts and you know there’s no way you’ll last much longer.

Fred knows this too, and he’s also aware of how embarrassingly fast he’s approaching his own orgasm. He takes both your ankles and positions your legs over his shoulder one by one.

You cry out around his fingers as his cock goes deeper, drool is spilling out of your mouth and Fred looks at you then; his hair has fallen onto his forehead, stray pieces sticking to it due to his perspiring form.

“You like that?” Fred asks, pounding into your cunt almost violently, cock hitting your sweet spot over and over and over.

You’re moaning loudly around his thick fingers, eyes shut tightly. You try your best to reply: yes! you say but it’s gargled around his digits, and all Fred can make out is the way you go uh, uh, uh, every time his hips slap into you.

Fred can’t take his eyes off where you’re connected; the way his cock spreads you open and how well you take all of it. “Such a good fucking girl.”

Your body warms with the praise, along with the warmth that floods through you as you get closer and closer to cumming. It’s when Fred brings his hand to your clit, rubbing fast circles with his thumb as he instructs you, “cum for me baby, want you to make a mess all over my cock,” that has you practically screaming around his fingers as your back lifts off the table, and you cunt spasms around his cock.

It’s the way you get impossible tighter around him that has Fred cumming, fingers pressing harder against your tongue as he helps you both ride out your orgasms. You’re still mumbling incoherent sounds around his digits, his cock still hitting your sweet spot over and over. “That’s it,” Fred sighs as he lazily thrusts, letting every last drop of his cum fill your cunt.

Your legs fall from his shoulder as his fingers remove themselves from your mouth. Fred pulls out of you then and you grunt as he drops his body on top of yours.

“Get off,” you say as you try your best to shove him off of you. “You’re heavy.”

He scoffs as he picks his head up to look at you, “Pretty rude thing to say to someone who just fucked your brains out.”

“Oh my god,” you say, throwing an arm over your face. “Leave me alone.”

He gets up then, puts himself back in his pants as he walks to the counter to grab a wet towel. He cleans you off before helping you get dressed, placing a sweet kiss on your forehead.

“I still hate you,” you lie again, and you kiss him on the mouth.

“Uh-huh.”

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whump-town · 3 years ago

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The Traveling T-Shirt

No Pairings

No Warnings

It's just Morgan's t-shirt traveling through the BAU one person and story at a time

It starts with a coffee spill in Seattle. With Aaron, startlingly enough.

Six days in the rain and it seemed even their cleanest, driest clothing was damp with the chill from the constant downpour. Though, six days on their feet with clothing they’d already worn at least twice that week on their backs, they looked more and more “rag-tag” as the hours bore on. Even Hotch had lost his cookie-cutter charm. His white t-shirt crumpled where it was typically pressed to perfection, not a wrinkle in sight. His hair wouldn’t stay gelled into the style he liked it in, leaving it fluffy and soft on the top of his head. He looked significantly less like SSA Aaron Hotchner and a lot more like Aaron.

Maybe he had lost SSA Hotchner somewhere along the days and victims because SSA Hotchner would never spill coffee on himself. But Aaron would and Aaron did.

Derek watched the whole thing take place, unable to take his eyes off of Hotch since the second that he walked in. Something about his tired zombie-like lurches just couldn’t break Derek’s curiosity and he had to know what would come out of Hotch’s current state. Despite the far-away look in Hotch’s gaze, the tired bags of discoloration under his eyes, Derek would not have predicted this as the outcome. Hotch is so out of it that all he can do is stare at the mess he’s created, glaring at the mess of coffee grounds across his less than pristine white dress shirt.

“Here,” Derek shakes his head, has to manually clear the fog occupying his brain. He pulls at the loose clump of napkins someone had left atop the coffee table for this exact situation, presses the mass into Hotch’s stomach. It feels akin to something else, distinctly deja-vu. Like he’s pressing into a wound, holding him together with nothing more than cheap napkins.

The physical contact brings Hotch back to the Earth and with a few blinks of his blood-shot eyes he sighs irritably and mumbles, “I don’t have any more clean shirts.”

Derek would argue the one he’s currently wearing is not clean either. It’s got a few dots of red expo marker on the left elbow where Reid bumped into him, rambling quickly about his map and the geographical profile. On the cuff of his right sleeve, there’s something brown or black which could be something from a pen or an expo marker or something else he’s just stuck his hand in. God knows what else is on this shirt.

Hotch puts his hand over Derek’s, holds the napkins himself. Derek pats his shoulder, “it’s alright, man. I’ll get you a shirt.”

They could go just about anywhere and just buy him a shirt. It could be some looney graphic t-shirt from the boy’s sections of some store down the street or another white dress shirt to replace the one he’s wearing but Derek just gets one of his. It’s a light grey, the color worn down by how frequently Derek wears it. Where it fits Derek snugly, hugs his chest and back tightly, it fits Hotch oddly. Displays to them all just how right they were in the assumptions they have held about how his recent divorce is affecting him.

He’s lost weight.

Too much.

One thin grey Hanes t-shirt can’t fight off the chill and overtop it, covering his visible bones, Dave throws him a sweater. He stays buried in that sweater and shirt all day, long into the night as they go hunting out in the streets with flashlights. Rain comes down heavy and thick.

Dave gets his sweater back. Folded neatly and smelling of the distinct fabric softener Hotch uses, it makes his whole office smell nice and Dave nearly can’t bring himself to wear the thing again. Doesn’t want the scent to fade, every inch of that sweater is now stitched together with something more.

The t-shirt gets left at the bottom of a drawer, to be discovered months from now.

Emily finds it six nights after Foyet left Hotch in Saint Sebastion’s hospital held together by sugrical staples and the stubborn will to live. All of his clothing has been hunted through, his shirt drawer is nearly empty. JJ and Penelope had undertaken the job of finding Hotch clothing for the hospital -- anything that he could just slip his arms into without having to lift them above his head. The only things left in his drawers are regular t-shirts and jeans, meaning Emily doesn’t have a whole lot to pick through right now.

She hadn’t anticipated this need and as much forethought as she put into staying the night was assuming Hotch would have clothes she could steal. She hadn’t really thought she’d be here tonight but she doesn’t think she can leave him alone. Doesn’t think it would be kind of her as his friend to see him like this and still choose to leave him for the night.

She decides on a thin grey shirt that she finds, turning her nose up to his university t-shirts (as if she’d wear those) and a pair of sweat pants on his floor that she thinks are clean or at least don’t smell bad. It’s not the best but she came unprepared and she’s not going to complain, both are comfortable even if the pants are giant on her.

To her surprise, he’s still fighting off his meds. Hazy brown eyes blink open when she steps back out into the living room, following her as she comes to the couch. She’s careful, even if she does it nonchalantly, as she moves his legs a little so that she can sit down beside him. He’s stretched across the couch, too big so he’s pinched up in places, but he doesn’t want to sleep in his room. Stubborn like a child being asked to take a nap -- “but I’m not tired”.

“T’as not my shirt,” he mumbles into his blanket. He’s got the heating blanket pulled up his nose, wrapped tightly around his shoulders and hands.

Emily looks down at it and frowns. “Well, then who the hell else’s is it?” She reaches for the TV remote on the coffee table, turning it on without waiting for his answer. Clearly, she doesn’t care who’s it is, she’s not taking it off now. His grunt, muffled by the blanket, means he doesn’t know and he doesn’t really care enough either to figure out who it is.

He doesn’t last much longer, falls asleep with her squishing him on the couch (though, arguably, he’s squishing her). She’ll brush off his timid embarrassment at having to need her around the next morning, for waking up in the middle of the night having to be held down. Sobbing incoherently about something, neither of them really sure what. Only calming down when she put his head in her lap, stroking his hair back until he fell back asleep. Which is how he wakes up, his head in her lap and his hand holding her’s hostage.

But she shrugs it off and says she only did it for the free shirt, “don’t worry about it.”

She keeps the shirt, uses it several more nights as they graduate from sleeping on the couch to him finally going back to his bed. To being mentally present enough again to fight her about taking meds, to walking her to the front door every night, and watching her leave.

She buries the shirt too. It feels too tight on her skin, wrong. She touches the material and remembers seeing him hysterical, writhing in pain, and unable to be comforted. Can smell the antiseptic from his skin. Can hear the doctor warning her about his heart. That shirt feels like losing her best friend but she can’t bring herself to get rid of it.

JJ uncovers it a year later (before Emily has done the unspeakable, the unimaginable, and died and come back to life). It’s a girls night gone wrong but not impossibly so.

“Just grab one of my shirts,” Emily says, still laughing.

JJ glares back at her. She’s covered in water from the sink -- Emily sprayed her with the faucet. It’s revenge, payback for the pasta sauce JJ swiped down her cheek.

“You two are devious,” Penelope insists, waving her fingers at them. She’s still chopping up mushrooms, trying to size them as best as she can so that they are spread evenly throughout the alfredo sauce. “Behave before you ruin the sauce and I have to tell Dave that I not only shared his recipe but that you two ruined it.”

JJ has to search for a shirt from Emily’s pajama drawer. She doesn’t want any of the old college shirts and certainly doesn’t want any of the dopey graphic t-shirts Emily is so partial to. She ends up on a grey shirt, worn and old and soft.

Emily knows the shirt the second the JJ comes out and it takes her a moment to hide and stifle the anxiety that its presence gives her. Hotch’s health is better, he’s got a routine down with the medication he’ll be taking for the rest of his life because of that attack, but he’s smiling again. It’s harder than it was before to win one out of him but he can do it, they happen.

“Which one-night stand is this?” JJ asks, plucking the shirt with her fingers and raising an eyebrow.

Emily shakes her head, clears her throat of the residual guilt, and smirks, “trust me, you don’t want to know.” Hotch would be mortified at the insinuation but it’s funny and what he doesn’t know (and what they don’t know) can’t hurt him. She’s sad to see the shirt go, it’s a door closed, but relieved of its burden she can breathe again. Feels Foyet leave her completely.

JJ goes unburdened.

That old shirt is a comfort. She nurses Henry through fevers in it. Uses its edge to wipe his tears from his face. It’s always at the top of her laundry basket, the first thing she puts on when she gets home from a rough case. Will isn’t sure where she got it from because he knows it’s not his. It’s not the first time JJ’s stolen someone else’s clothes (he’s picked up enough of them to know that Reid wears a size small, that dark shirts sized medium are Morgan, and that white t-shirts in a medium are Hotch’s). He thinks it’s cute, she’s been stealing his shirts for as long as he’s known her.

In October, the fall of the same year that Emily leaves for Interpol, JJ gets held up in a meeting with Hotch. Something to do the with Department of Justice and all she manages to get out over the phone is that she’s absolutely pissed and Reid can just faintly hear Hotch offering her a coffee before she thanks him and the line goes dead. Will is on night shift and he can’t come home. So Reid fills in, their impromptu babysitter for the night.

It’s fine, calm… for the most part.

Reid lasts about an hour and a half before he finds himself in need of a change of clothes. He’s got pumpkin all over him and his fun little idea to let Henry carve a baby pumpkin was obviously a bad idea. He just didn’t know that in advance. He’s watched Jack enough times to feel fully confident in his skills but the age gap between Henry and Jack is severe. There are a lot of developmental differences in children only two years apart in age, Reid was not prepared for that.

He feels weird about stealing a shirt but his own is soaked in pumpkin guts and Henry’s bathwater.

JJ doesn’t notice the shirt exchange. She just grins at the sight of Spencer and Henry curled up on the couch, Will sitting beside them eating popcorn while “It’s The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown” plays softly.

Three days later Morgan sees his shirt on the back of the couch. It’s been washed and is waiting to be returned to JJ but he knows damn well that it’s his. “How the hell did you find this?” Morgan asks, lifting it up. Reid had called him over to fix a leaking pipe (Reid is supposed to call his Super who has a mechanic who can do it but he’s too anxious for that) and Morgan was less than prepared to find his missing shirt.

Reid frowns, confused, “that’s JJ’s. I borrowed it Thursday night when I babysat.”

Morgan shakes his head, no this is his shirt. He’s sure of it. It’s been gone for years. He thought the washing machine ate it. He couldn't remember where else it would have gone off to. That or he left it in some hotel but here it is. Grey and worn and soft, it’s his.

He takes it to work in his go-bag and all but rolls his eyes into the back of his head when he watches Garcia stumble and drench herself in cold, left-over tea. He stands from his desk, sighing hard, “it’s alright, baby girl. I’ve got a shirt you can borrow.”

He’s never getting this shirt back.

#criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #dererk morgan #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #spencer reid #penelope garcia

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nerdzzone · 3 years ago

Text

Only For A Moment: September

Summary: A series of shorter one shots from Chris and Whitney’s life together throughout the pandemic. Some happy times, some harder times, some fluff and some things a little more sexy - they work through it all as they try to get settled in their new and blossoming relationship.

Chris Evans x OFC

Part of the Once Bitten/More Hearts series

Only For A Moment: August

Note: I really liked writing this part so please let me know your thoughts!

-----

September 2020

Before the pandemic hit, we'd planned to send Grayson to preschool in the fall after he turned three. However, with the state of the world when the time arrived, it became a more complicated decision. We knew the benefits - we knew it would give him the opportunity to make friends and jumpstart his learning - but after many long, anxiety filled discussions, we decided to keep him home for another year. We didn't need it for childcare as neither of us had any work on the horizon and he still had another year before kindergarten so he wouldn't be missing out on preschool education completely. The risks just seemed to outweigh the benefits at that point in time given the case numbers in our area.

But not everyone had such an easy choice to make. People with older children had to educate them somehow - whether that be in person or online. In person classes had a much higher risk of exposure to the virus, but online classes were harder for children to focus on and required much more participation from the parents.

Carly had made the difficult choice to keep her kids at home and continue their online education, but it was proving to be harder than she'd anticipated. The kids were tired of learning through a computer and they missed their friends. Despite the risk of in person learning, they wanted to go back to school and were dragging their heels when it came to doing their work at home.

They started in August and by the middle of September, Carly was quickly losing her patience with all three of her children and, after a tearful phone call from his sister, Chris and I agreed to take them for an afternoon. They had some homework that we had to make sure they did, but Chris' goal was more related to sending them home with a renewed appreciation for their parents and a promise to keep working hard.

He'd picked them up just after lunch and given them a stern - but understanding - talking to on the way over to our place, but once they arrived he was back to being fun Uncle Chris and started their afternoon of school with gym class in the form of a soccer game. He ran them around the yard for over an hour before they wrapped up the game and came in for a snack. Then, the real school work started.

"So," Chris clapped. "What homework does everyone have?"

"Math..."

Ethan wrinkled his nose in disgust as he answered and his siblings nodded their heads in agreement.

"Well, it's your lucky day!" Chris grinned. "Whitney happens to be a math whiz! She went to university to be an accountant."

It was hard not to laugh at the disgust on their faces and I was tempted to inform them of the fact that I had dropped out just to retain my status as their uncle's 'cool' girlfriend. I thought that information might not help inspire them to work though so I kept it to myself.

"Why did you do that?" Miles questioned. "That's so boring!"

"It doesn't have to be," I insisted. "Chris, why don't you take Gray to do a puzzle or something and we'll get this work out of the way?"

"Sure," Chris nodded, plucking Grayson off the stool he was sitting on and throwing the giggling child over his shoulder. "And remember, the faster the homework gets done, the faster we can get back to doing fun stuff!"

I waited until Chris had left the room before shooting a smile at the little students that I was left with.

"Okay, now that he's gone, I can show you the secret to making math fun," I told them, stretching up to grab a big jar of jelly beans from the top shelf of a cupboard. It was Chris' secret stash, but I was sure he wouldn't be too mad if I borrowed it. "You just need to find some motivation."

The kid's eyes went wide.

"Are those Uncle Chris'?" Ethan asked, a hint of wonder in his voice.

"Yep," I smiled. "So, let's hurry and get to work before he comes back and catches us."

I shot them a wink and they all scurried off to get their notebooks.

It was easier to incorporate the candy into Miles and Stella's math homework as in the younger grades, they were mostly doing addition and subtraction. I helped them use the jelly beans as counters and let them eat them after every few questions. For Ethan, it was a bit trickier. In sixth grade, he was getting more into the start of algebra and some harder level fractions which jelly beans were less useful in. Instead, we used them as motivation and he got to eat a couple of jelly beans for every row of questions he finished.

We almost got away with our jelly bean thievery, but just as the kids were packing up their books, I heard a gasp come from the doorway.

"Are those my jelly beans?!"

The kids all burst out laughing as I shot Chris a sheepish look.

"I'm sorry. They needed some encouragement..."

Chris shook his head, but the smile on his face told me that he wasn't really that upset.

"I trusted you," he scolded me. "Now I'll have to find a new hiding spot and you won't be informed of its whereabouts."

I pouted at that as Grayson scrambled up onto the stool beside me to get his hands in the candy before it was moved.

"You could just be nice and share," I pointed out. "Making them forbidden just makes them more tempting."

"Yeah, Uncle Chris," Ethan nodded in agreement. "Plus, you're always telling us that we have to share stuff."

"You're getting too smart, kid," Chris smiled at him. "But unfortunately for you, I'm still in charge which means you have to do as I say, not as I do."

Ethan rolled his eyes at that as Stella frowned.

"That's not fair!"

"That's life," Chris shrugged. "Now, who's going to help me make some dinner?"

Grayson and Stella threw their hands up in the air as I popped another jelly bean into my mouth.

"What are we having?"

"Pasketti!" Grayson enthusiastically informed me, earning a laugh from Chris as he ruffled his hair.

"Spaghetti," he clarified. "With Ma's recipe for the sauce."

"Ooh, yum!"

I stole one last jelly bean before putting the lid back on the jar. The kids all whined in protest, but if Chris was making dinner then I knew it was time for me to stop stuffing them with sugar.

We all stayed in the kitchen as Chris started getting things ready, giving the kids simple jobs to do like opening jars and the occasional stirring. Dinner was about halfway ready when Miles got a cheeky smirk on his face.

"Uncle Chris?" He questioned, getting Chris' attention. "Aren't you going to sing the spaghetti song?"

That piqued my interest and I raised an eyebrow at Chris whose cheeks were slightly pinker than they'd been moments before.

"What's the spaghetti song?"

"On Top of Spaghetti," Chris informed me as if I should know what he was talking about. I didn't and my face must have shown him that. "C'mon! You have to know it!"

"I can't say that I do," I shrugged. "You'll have to enlighten me."

"Daddy sings it every time we have pasketti!" Grayson informed me, still mispronouncing the word.

"Well, I think I need to learn it then," I smiled. "Go on, Chris. Let's hear it."

The kids all agreed with me, hassling him to start the song.

"Alright, alright," he agreed after a moment of resistance. His cheeks were still looking a little rosy with embarrassment as he took a deep breath and then began. "On top of spaghetti, all covered with cheese. I lost my poor meatball, when somebody sneezed..."

I watched - filled with an almost overwhelming sense of affection for him - as he sang through all the verses of the song. The kids joined in where they could and all of them were giggling by the time he was done.

"Again, again!"

Grayson started the chant, but they all joined in and with a smirk, I did too.

"Yes, Chris! Again, again!" I teased. "So I can film it for Instagram!"

"Ha-ha," Chris laughed sarcastically. "You're so funny, Whitney. There will be no filming of this performance."

"But just think how much your fans would love it," I smiled. "You'd melt the hearts of women all over the world."

Chris let out a laugh at that comment, but didn't have time to respond before the kids took over again, demanding another performance. Once he was sure that my phone was safely out of reach, he launched into another round of song.

By the time dinner was done and the kids were all settled in front of the TV watching a movie, my heart was feeling rather full. Seeing Chris with all the children and enjoying the afternoon of a house full of their joy and laughter had me feeling things I hadn't been entirely sure I was ready to contemplate yet.

As I sat at the island in the kitchen, sipping my second glass of wine as Chris finished loading the dishwasher, I broached the subject.

"Today has been really nice," I told him, my voice catching his attention in the quiet room. "Having a house full of kids."

That thought clearly gripped his interest as he spun around to face me, still drying his hands.

"Yeah?" The excitement in his voice was palpable. "We haven't talked about that, have we? Do you want more kids?"

"I do," I smiled at his overzealous reaction. "At least one more. I'd like Grayson to have a sibling. It seems lonely to make him grow up all alone."

"It does," he agreed. "I can't imagine growing up without siblings."

"What about you?" I asked. "I mean, I know you've mentioned in interviews that you want a big family, but is that real? Or just for the family man image that your fans love so much?"

Chris chuckled and shrugged, but there was something sheepish about the way he was looking at me.

"Honestly?" He paused as if waiting for a response, but it seemed unnecessary. We both knew I wouldn't want anything other than the truth in a moment like this. "I want at least two more, maybe even three. Hell, I'd have another one right now if you were willing."

I almost choked on the wine I was sipping as those words left his mouth, but as I placed my glass safely back on the counter, the coughing shifted into laughter.

"We can't have another one now," I protested. "We've only been together for like four months!"

"Five," he corrected with a soft smile. "And we were only together for one night before we had Gray and I think he's turned out alright."

He was right about that and I would have been lying if I said that the thought of another little baby didn't stir something inside me, but the more rational side of me came through.

"We can't just rush into another baby," I insisted. "I appreciate your enthusiasm, but that's a big decision."

"I know it is," Chris assured me. "I'm half-kidding. I know it's not something we can rush into, but another part of me thinks it would be nice to have one now while we've got nothing else going on."

"That's true, but this pandemic won't last forever," I pointed out. "Even if you got me pregnant right now, you'll hopefully be working again before it would even be born. I'm not sure I could deal with Grayson and a newborn all by myself."

"Yeah, but some experts think this mess is gonna last for a few years still which would make this the perfect time to have a baby."

I shot him a look and he shrugged with a smirk.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," I warned him. "Let's just see how this whole pandemic situation goes for a bit longer before we make any massive life plans."

"Alright, alright," Chris chuckled, coming around to my side of the island. He rested his chin on my shoulder and slid his arms around my waist, placing his hands on my stomach. "It would be nice though, wouldn't it? Having another little baby around. Another little mix of the two of us."

I could feel his breath on my neck as his voice was low in my ear and I had to admit that he was right. I was one of the lucky women who actually loved being pregnant and, despite how exhausting and stressful the newborn phase was, I did miss having a little baby around.

But my worries about our ability to co-parent if we split up were still lingering in my mind. They'd been eased slightly by how solid our relationship had been so far, but if it all fell apart, I was still worried about how we would cope. Adding another baby to that so soon seemed like a foolish thing to do.

"It would be nice," I agreed, letting my hands rest on top of his. "It will be nice, one day."

"Well, whenever you're ready," Chris paused to place a kiss on my neck. "Just let me know."

I smiled at his eagerness and turned my head to kiss his cheek.

"I will," I assured him. "And maybe, once the kids have gone home and Grayson's in bed, we could practice. Just so we know what we're doing when the time comes..."

"Oh, I know what I'm doing," Chris practically growled, his grip tightening around me to pull me closer against him. "Don't you worry about that."

I giggled at his confidence before wiggling out of his grasp and standing up from the stool I'd been sitting on.

"I'm not worried, but practice makes perfect, right?"

With a wink, I grabbed my wine and turned to leave the room and check on the kids. Our conversation had given me plenty to think about, but it was comforting as well. I had no doubts that one day I wanted to expand our little family and even if I wasn't quite ready yet, it was nice to know that Chris was on board.

The man was born to be a father, he excelled in every aspect of parenting, and I was grateful that I was the one who got to help him find that role and that I got to share the experience with him.

October + November [part one]

Tags: @maggotzombie @moonlacebeam @mizzzpink @zaylaugh @flowery-mess @flowerjewels @njrronaldo7 @hockeychick10 @partypoison00 @theladybiers @sidepieces @firoozehmoon @patzammit @sparkledfirecracker @mytbel0st @chvntelle-99

#chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fan fiction #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fluff #once bitten/more hearts #only for a moment

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blackstonesandtrapnest · 4 years ago

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NANA Characters in Quarantine

I was inspired to write this since I had to go under quarantine earlier this month due to coming in close contact with a co-worker who tested positive for COVID. I returned to work this week and I’m doing just fine! If you wish for me to do this with one of the fandoms on my list, then feel free to request it!

~~Nana Osaki~~

Does NOT handle quarantine well at first. Being unable to sing makes her jittery and cranky! Will literally rant and rave to anyone who listens and she’ll do that for hours!

But once she gets all of the frustration out of her system, Nana will come up with ways to make the best of the lockdown. Surprise, surprise, they’re mostly music based!

Will use this opportunity to come up with new material and has video calls every night with the band to discuss it. They’re not gonna sit around and be lazy when they could be getting creative as far as she’s concerned!

If she’s with her S/O or Ren during the quarantine, then it’ll make things much better for Nana since she’ll have someone always around to talk to and just share company with! Cuddles! Lots of cuddles! Just don’t tell anyone though.

If Nana is alone during lockdown, then her anxiety will definitely spike and she’ll have panic attacks more often. When that happens, she’ll usually call or text someone while using the paper bag method to keep herself calm.

~~Nana Komatsu~~

Is pretty bummed about the lockdown but doesn’t want to complain and prefers to make the best of it instead. Will definitely be talking Nana down and off the ledge when she gets too annoyed.

Decides to make BLAST and Trapnest masks to sell online which become extremely popular much to her delight. Yes the bands approve and yes Hachi is making masks for them!

Is the most likely to gain weight during lockdown. Will look up recipes online and try them out which is the cause of said weight gain. Hachi loves food after all!

You can definitely expect to see Hachi on social media a lot and it’ll be her main way of keeping in contact with her friends and family. Livestreaming and making cooking videos will definitely keep Hachi occupied alongside her mask business!

If Hachi is with her S/O, she’ll definitely be doing many things with them and trying to make them a part of her videos which will be very cute and adorable! Awwwww!

~~Nobu Terashima~~

Takes the lockdown quite well. He’s pretty introverted so being alone and isolated for a while doesn’t affect him as much as others.

Uses the free time to write songs and new material just like Nana and they call every day with new pieces and ideas.

Spends a lot of time on social media and donates to a lot of humanitarian causes, persuading fans of BLAST to do the same which always succeeds.

Will gladly fight anyone who thinks the pandemic is a hoax, is an anti-masker, or just don’t wanna obey guidelines. You’re not gonna get other people sick on Nobu’s watch!

Likes to livestream and play music for his fans whether it be covers or original material. Hachi is one of his mods and his biggest supporter.

~~Shinichi Okazaki~~

The lockdown affects his living as a gigolo (if he still does it by then) so you’re damn right Shin doesn’t like it! He hates being restricted and you can expect long-winded debates between him and Nobu on how the pandemic should be handled.

If Shin has an S/O and is with them during lockdown, they can expect a lot of sex and overall intimacy! No one is surprised if Shin ends up getting said S/O pregnant. If he’s gonna be cooped up in the house for a while, then he could at least get some action out of it!

Is lazy AF during lockdown and isn’t interested in music or social media. In fact, don’t expect to hear from Shin during quarantine at all. Everyone has to initiate contact with him first and yes it pisses them off.

The only way to get Shin to do something productive is if his S/O threatens to cut him off sexually and goes through with it. He’ll do anything to get some WAP! Speaking of which, expect to see Shin dancing to music and expect to hear it playing a lot.

The only social media posts Shin will be making is photos of him and his S/O as well as getting on Nobu’s nerves. Shin gets tons of followers because of his looks but his heart is for his S/O only and he proudly displays that!

~~Yasu Takagi~~

Anticipated the lockdown and went shopping beforehand. He’s always prepared.

With an S/O, Yasu will use this opportunity to get closer to them and have deep conversations that can last for hours. Also lots of cuddles and affection! Yasu’s S/O will definitely be spoiled!

Yasu will be working from home so expect to see him on his laptop a lot. He will be doing video calls frequently with BLAST and upper management at Gaia as well as his law firm if he’s still a lawyer.

Likes to binge-watch YouTube videos and browse on Reddit. He likes to interact with his favorite YouTubers and give advice on Reddit like the kind person he is. Yasu will also donate to humanitarian causes like Nobu does.

Acts as the peacemaker during arguments between Nobu and Shin. Will also calm Nana down if her anxiety flares up. Got any problems? Call Yasu! He’s always available!

~~Ren Honjo~~

Gives no shits about the lockdown and is zen AF. He has to stay inside for a while? Ok!

Is mostly gonna spend the days in bed with his S/O (if they’re with him) and just wants to be close to them. Sleeping is Ren’s best friend!

If Ren is still using drugs, then he’s gonna be unbearable to be around since this means he’ll have to go through withdrawal and will have no way to get the drugs.

Will be unreachable during lockdown if he’s with his S/O. They come first as far as he’s concerned and he wants to make up for lost time with them as much as possible.

Will play music just to brush up on his guitar skills. May join Nobu on one of his livestreams every now and then and play with him as well as chat with fans.

~~Reira Serizawa~~

Has the same reaction as Nana when it comes to the lockdown and has bitching sessions with her about it too. Everyone is annoyed (except Shin) and if anyone tries to interrupt, they get bombarded by Reira and Nana to the point of not being able to get a word in.

Is bored AF and literally doesn’t know what to do with her time. Calls everyone and annoys the hell out of them to the point where they block her number. Reira just wants some company! 🙁

Spends the most time on social media out of everyone and mostly sings songs for her fans. Yes she takes requests and yes she gets a lot of them. Joins Nobu on his livestream whenever Ren is present and provides the vocals for their music. It instantly goes viral as one would expect.

If Reira has an S/O, they can definitely expect her to be clingy and trying to always have their attention. If they’re working from home and have to do video chats, Reira will definitely be in the background and will bring you things if you ask. She may or may not be appropriately dressed.

Loves to listen to other musicians on Spotify and will shout them out and uplift them. If anyone sings a cover of one of Trapnest’s songs, Reira will cry with joy and happiness!

~~Takumi Ichinose~~

Takes the lockdown in stride surprisingly enough. He doesn’t want to risk getting sick nor does he want his bandmates getting sick.

Decides to relax more instead of working which shocks most people. If Takumi has an S/O, he’ll want them to stay with him but if they can’t, he’ll settle for calls and texts.

Sex, sex, and more sex! His S/O will definitely be worn out unless they have a high sex drive and if they get pregnant, Takumi will be happy and expects it to happen unless you use birth control.

Likes to try new challenges and will have a YouTube channel dedicated to that. Such content includes eating a Carolina Reaper pepper, drinking very strong cocktails, and gaming-related challenges. Yes Takumi is a gamer and his rage is legendary.

Does weekly video calls with the band to make sure they’re taking care of themselves and staying safe. No one’s getting sick on his watch!

~~Naoki Fujieda~~

Hates the restrictions and whines about being stuck in the house all day, everyday. He wants to have fun damn it!

Will do anything and everything to keep himself busy and if he has an S/O with him, they’ll be dragged into it too! Naoki doesn’t want you to be bored!

Will do challenges with Takumi and plays video games a lot whether it’s by himself, with his S/O, or with Takumi. His livestreams are a riot and there’s plenty of laughter to be had, especially if Takumi is present.

Likes to upload skits and rants that become quite popular due to how funny and true they are. Also gives advice to people which actually works and makes their lives better.

Always makes sure his appearance is on point and likes to promotes fashion brands, ideas, and trends. Naoki loves beautiful things so expect to see a lot of pics of just that!

~~Junko and Kyosuke~~

Kyosuke takes the lockdown in stride while Junko panics. Junko ends up furloughed (she’s a salesperson) so she worries about finances.

Kyosuke comes up the idea of doing art commissions for money and it becomes a huge success. Junko decides to join in and also makes and sells masks with Hachi.

Their sex life becomes much more active during lockdown and it’s quite noticeable with how relaxed Junko is. Teasing them about this will just make Junko act like a tsundere and Kyosuke act smug.

They network with other artists worldwide and become quite involved, especially in the black community.

Kyosuke watches various livestreams while Junko sticks to services like Netflix and Hulu. Kyosuke is a mod for Hachi’s livestreams and Junko catches up on her favorite shows while live-tweeting with fellow fans of said shows and having discussions.

#nana #nana anime #nana manga #anime headcanons #quarantine #lockdown #pandemic woes #nana osaki #nana komatsu #Nobuo Terashima #Yasushi Takagi #Shinichi Okazaki #Ren Honjo #takumi ichinose #Reira Serizawa #Naoki Fujieda #junko saotome #kyosuke takakura

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chibinekochan · 3 years ago

Text

How to become a Demon Ruler 215

Part: 00 I 01 I 02 I 03 I 04 I 05 I 06 I 07 I 08 I 09 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I 14

Gender Neutral Reader insert

taglist: @ayesha95 ; @nomnomcupcakesworld ; @fex-phoenix ; @depressed-bixch ; @kitsune-oji ; @witch-o-memes ; @gallantys ,@tanspostsblog ; @undertaker-02 ,

---------------------------------

Barbatos is there to greet me as always.

"I see you are in good spirits, master." He smiles gently. His eyes then fall on my bag. "Shall I carry that for you?"

"No, this is for later. I just need to use the Wintergarden if you would lead the way?!" I have a good idea of where it is but going with Barbatos will make this much faster.

"Alright. Follow me." Barbatos is slightly disappointed but moves on without complaining.

He leads me through the maze-like palace with ease.

The Wintergarden looks very nice, it's a perfect place for relaxing.

"I will now prepare everything. I will call you once I'm done." I look at him with a smile.

"Master… I can assist you if you want me to." Barbatos seems unhappy to be left out.

"Sorry, not now. You just go and do your other duties." As much as I love his assistance, I need to do this.

"I could at least prepare the tea." Barbatos is disappointed by the fact that he is left out of preparing anything for our tea time.

"I got it all covered so don't worry." I pat him reassuringly on the shoulder.

Barbatos has an unsure expression. "I have no doubt that you can do this."

"Good, so be off now." I shove him out of the room and close the door.

Barbatos is baffled by my actions, but eventually,y I hear him walking off.

Now I can put all my efforts into making this look great.

I decorate the table with some flowers and a few candles with a nice and relaxing smell.

I put the cake and cookies in the middle.

Everything looks even better than anticipated, it's good that I asked Asmo for some advice.

Then I start to prepare the tea. Simeon gave me some advice on this specific blend. My training with Barbatos also pays off greatly.

I'm very happy with the outcome.

I text both Diavolo and Barbatos to come now.

I don't have to wait for long, lucky enough. My excitement wouldn't be able to take that anyways.

"Wow, this looks amazing." Diavolo is the first who enters, he is awestruck.

"You outdid yourself." Barbatos looks fondly at the decorations.

I feel proud. "You have seen nothing yet. Please sit down." I smile at them, mimicking Barbatos' movements when pulling the chairs out.

"Thank you." Barbatos smiles at me. He isn't used to being served either but he seems to enjoy it.

Diavolo sits down across from Barbatos, eyeing the desserts. "These look amazing."

"That is right. It's hard to believe that you made these yourself." Barbatos looks at the nicely decorated sweets.

I pour both of them their tea. I know by now how they enjoy it. It feels funny to be in Barbatos shoes.

"Very nice, at this point, you are a serious competition for Barbatos." Diavolo looks very proudly at me.

"Haha thank you, but I could never even dream of taking his place. He is so amazing it's hard to believe that he is real." I give him a genuine compliment. Barbatos cheeks flush with color. He seems to be embarrassed.

"I have to agree Barbatos always does a fine job." Diavolo agrees with a smile. Then he realizes that he is still mad at him and his face turns to stone. "I mean, at least until that incident."

"I will give you each a slice of cake." I try to ignore the awkward atmosphere. It was going so well until now too.

Barbatos shoots me a guilty smile.

"Please enjoy the baked goods. No fighting at the table." I glance at Diavolo and sit down in between them.

Diavolo takes a sullen bite of the cake.

"It tastes amazing." He can't help but compliment me.

"It truly is. You need to share the recipe with me." Barbatos also enjoys his first bite.

"I think Simeon will be okay with that. I will ask him later." I want to make sure even when Simeon seems to be a generous guy.

"I'd love to try more angel desserts." Diavolo is happy about the food, at least.

"I think we should bake together at some point. Making desserts together is truly fun." I smile at both Barbatos and Diavolo.

"That is a splendid idea." Barbatos looks a bit sad, like he is only saying this to make me happy.

I let it slide for now.

After the cake, they both try the cookies.

"All of them are very nicely decorated." Diavolo smiles at the assortment of different designs.

"The brothers all gave me a few of them. They said it's to help us." I giggle at that.

"That was very nice of them. You seem to have a good influence on them." Barbatos smiles at me.

"I expect nothing less from you." Diavolo agrees.

"That would be great, but I think they don't like the awkward atmosphere either." They all complained about it at least.

"Haha that might be true, but it's not typical for them to help someone when they aren't moved in some way." Diavolo seems to be relaxed again.

"Now to the muffins," Simeon told me these are especially relaxing.

"They look quite interesting. They somehow remind me of a unicorn horn." Barbatos looks at the two colored and spiral patterned muffins.

"I bet this was hard to make." Diavolo looks at his muffin with great curiosity.

"There is a trick to them, but I will only reveal that in our joint baking session." I smirk at them. If sweets don't get them to agree then I don't know what will.

"I see you studied the weaknesses of your enemies well." Barbatos has a great sense of pride in his voice.

"I guess I have no choice do I?" Diavolo sighs and smiles.

"Exactly." I smile and finish my own plate off. It was so tasty. I feel full and sleepy.

"You seem to always have one over us somehow." Barbatos doesn't seem to be bothered at all.

"I don't know what you mean." I playfully laugh.

"I guess you also won't be satisfied until we address the elephant in the room?" Diavolo looks intently at me.

"You are right about that." There is no reason to deny the obvious.

"I wonder why you are so adamant about this?" Diavolo is seemingly clueless.

"It's not that hard to guess. I just want my family to get along. I just recently learned that in a family you talk about your issues and then makeup." I truly feel so strongly for both of them, family is the only word that fits.

Both men seem equally surprised and happy about my words.

"So that's how you see us." Barbatos smiles gently at me.

"You said the same thing before and each time I hear it it still surprises me. I'm truly blessed." Diavolo smiles the same way as Barbatos.

"I don't just mean me towards you, but to each other as well." I feel like I need to clarify.

This causes Diavolo to think for a moment. "In that case I shall try your method of making up."

I'm not sure what caused his slight shift but regardless I'm glad he is willing to do it.

"I honestly appreciate it even though I'm not quite sure I deserve it." Barbatos is still ridden with guilt. I doubt this will change anytime soon. I don't expect miracles either but at least they are talking.

"I think we both know why I got so upset. I have to admit that I probably reacted harshly, but when I imagine what could have happened I just get so angry." Diavolo starts by laying his raw emotions on the table.

"I was always one to be able to trust my abilities. I grew accustomed to them. When I didn't see any danger I thought it was fine. I will for the rest of my days regret this decision. I'm ashamed and I truly don't think that I deserve your kindness." Barbatos looks almost heartbroken.

Diavolo seems just as surprised as I am by this admission.

"But Barbatos…" My attempt at speaking gets interrupted by a motion of the hand by Diavolo.

"Nobody can always know everything. Not even a demon as powerful as you. At the very least we know what to expect with my sibling now. As bad as the situation was. I honestly don't ever want to repeat that, but at least now we can plan accordingly." Diavolo seems to know just the right words.

"You might be right. The knowledge of what I can't see might also be an asset, regardless we both have to double our efforts. In order to protect what's important." Barbatos fondly looks at me.

"Exactly. I doubt that I can do this all by myself. A treasure just as important as this one needs more than one guard." Diavolo looks just the same way at me.

My cheeks are burning. At least they agree so I just take the embarrassment.

"I agree with that statement. Let's triple our efforts. I also propose the formation of the little sibling support squad." Diavolo lifts his tea cup, like it's beer.

Barbatos agrees with him, it seems.

"Hey you two, cut it out, I'm right here." I can't take the embarrassment anymore.

Both of them laugh full-heartedly and then ruffle my hair.

Even when I got humiliated they are at least on the same page again.

I call it a win.

#obey me!#obeyme #obey me #obey me fanfic #obey me fanfiction #demon ruler 101 #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me one master to rule them all

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tomhardydallasstarsgirl · 4 years ago

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FUCK.YOU.ANGEL.REYES

Chapter 3.5

Angel Reyes x Black Reader

Warnings: Crude Nasty Hot and Dirty Language. Oral Sex Unprotected Sex. Female receiving. Bodily Fluids

Summary: You return to Santo Padre after being gone for nearly 15 years. Your life and also others will change. Affecting everything you hold dear including your Mayan MC Family.

Not requested by anyone. This is a short Chapter solely dedicated to Angel basically being Angel. ENJOY PEEPS!!!

Pic credit by @claytoncardenas_angels from Instagram

A thunderstorm has arrived to Santo Padre with howling winds, loud crashes of thunder and flashes of lightning. You were asleep after yet another lengthy round of sex with Angel who was holding you close as you two were asleep. That was while the moon was out. But, now it’s a different story as you two are awake again. Just like the raging storm outside there’s a whole different one of pain, passion and so much pleasure going on under Angel’s roof as he just has your back pinned against his heavy shower glass door as a mixture of cries and lustful pleas are mixed with the hot showering steam. You have your legs around him his tall solid figure as he drags more orgasms from your body. That feeling that was once wrapped so tightly in the pit of your stomach was never reached or challenged by any man before Angel also which wasn’t many either. He has single-handedly been able to push, tease, manipulate your body to the edge as he’d watch you dangle before taking the plunge into the abyss of ecstasy. His eyes, teeth, voice, lips, thick ringed fingers and deadly tongue have all done a insurmountable assault on you. Of course, not including that Double XXL King Cobra big dick energy swinging between his legs. Its funny how even before letting him touch you in such an intimate way he latched onto you in more ways than one. He occupied your mind loving there rent free as he eased into your heart little by little and grabbed a hold of your soul by revealing himself by warming up to you. He pulls you out of the shower as he dries your body slowly and on purpose. Then he walks you back to his bedroom. Grabs a blindfold covering your eyes as he sits you down at the foot of the bed.

“Don’t move mama. I’ll be right back”, he whispers as he kisses your lips softly disappearing for a minute.

All you can hear is the rain falling with the heavy winds as your breathing was steady until you felt the nearness and warm heat of a body coming near you. What you can’t see is that Angel is carrying a small tray in tow as he places it on the floor near your feet. A pair of strong hands touched your thighs as rough pads of his fingers trace the outlines of them as your breath slightly quickens. The feeling is making you nervous but, at the same time it’s exhilarating. Once the touching stops he stepped away from you heading toward the head of his bed. You can hear as if something was heavy and chained was being put in place at the headboard.

He comes back to you as he stares at you as you anxiously chew on your bottom lip while your curiosity is like a runaway train. He grabs a strawberry as he holds it in front of your face rubbing it against your lips.

“Hmmm is that a strawberry daddy?”, you ask as a smile appears on your face.

He doesn’t right away as he dips it in chocolate dripping down his thick finger as a he places it toward you lips as you take a bite. You moan at the taste as he watches you lick the extra chocolate from your lips. He nearly finishes the rest of it as he holds the last piece on his own lips. Moving closer to you as you pull him in taking the rest into your mouth as he lets out a feral growl as you suck on his bottom lip. He’s suddenly overheated and his dick is hard as fucking steel as he grabs you picking you up placing your body flat on his bed.

“Damn my necklace looks beautiful between these breasts I’m going to lick and suck the hell out of”, as your mouth waters with anticipation.

He grabs each of your wrists as they become shackled to his headboard while his hard dick keeps brushing your left leg as a yelp escape your lips. He laughs under his breath as he leaves your legs free.

“Alexa. Play Living Room Flow for me”, asks Angel.

“Sure thing Daddy. Anything for you”, the feminine voice responds back to him as you raise a quizzical eyebrow and shaking your head.

Suddenly music comes thumping from his sound system as Jhene sultry voice seeps through his sound system.

I’m so glad you called right on time

You must have just read my mind

If we skipped the small talk, want you now

But, I don’t have to stay til mornin’

I don’t have to, I don’t have pack no clothes

I am really not that lonely

We finished, we finished and I will go

You gasp and hold you legs together for the simple fact that Jhene gets you in the mood for sex. Unless Angel knows now that her music is your Achilles heel and makes you melt to do just about anything.

He doesn’t say a single word as you only hear his heavy ragged breathing as you pool between your legs. So there you are chained to Angel’s headboard with a blindfold over your eyes when you as that moment feel him snake between your legs as your heart jumps into your throat. Suddenly hear as if something is being shakened in a can when something cold is applied to your belly button as you jump from the coldness of it. A split second later it hits you that this man is putting whip cream on your body so you know what’s going to happen next. His hot tongue laps up every drop of the whip cream as you want to free your hands from the cuffs to touch Angel so badly as you bit down on your lip. You call his name repeatedly as he continues to torment you slowly. He grabs your hips to hold you in place.

“You keep your fine ass still dulce. Or else”, he demands as you stay still not wanting the latter of his threat.

You’re body is still as a board as you feel a sticky and dripping sensation on your skin running between you breasts and on top of your hard as diamond nipples. A slow and agonizing slick trail of his tongue leaves you gasping and begging as he sucks up the honey. Putting your body in hyper drive as you feel two fingers dip between your folds as the pad of his thumb making tiny circles to you clit.

“FUCK ANGEL!! Make me come daddy!!!”, you when as he circles your clit faster as your hips move too.

He must’ve felt you were close to euphoria as he whispers to you.

“I told you to not move didn’t I?”, he whispers in your ear as your breath is ragged and uneven as rubs your clit as your upper body slowly leaves his bed.

Just as you were about to cum for him he removes his hand as you growl in anger.

“WHAT FUCK YOU DO THAT FOR ANGEL”, as you yell at him in frustration as he laughs at you.

“What fucking part of be still you don’t understand little girl? I fucking meant that shit”, as he toyed with you some more.

He then grabs the chocolate syrup as he dips his thick finger into it. He drizzles the syrup onto your folds and clit as he grabs your legs pinning you down so you can’t move an inch. He dives in laying his tongue flat as he suck up the syrup as he gasp and cry his name. You so badly wanted to touch and grab onto Angel as he assaulted your pussy with his stiff tongue and thick full beard as tears fall heavily from your eyes.

“Daddy please let me touch you baby”, you yell in a crying sob as you beg Angel for relief.

Of course, Angel being the brick wall he can be licks deeper and faster as you pull at the restraints wanting to be set free. You’re thinking to yourself as your running full steam ahead as Angel is nearing you towards that infinite orgasm you’ve been within reach as tears fall faster from your eyes as your so want to squirt all over his beautiful beard. Just as your nearing the finish line you whisper his name non-stop and he does it again pulling back from you as your now beyond pissed as your now cussing him out.

He does nothing but, guffaws with such cockiness you are practically beside yourself at this point.

“I fucking hate you Angel Reyes. I literally can’t stand you right now”, as you spew anger and cuss words.

He grabs you by the waist as he yanks your lower half toward him as you attempt to resist him.

“Colibri this is a losing battle of you trying to fight and rebel against me. Especially since I know you want Daddy to stretch out this tight ass pussy you been waiting for. All you want to do is wet and squirt all over this dick too. So, when you think you denying me you actually denying yourself”, he whispers in your ear as his tongue flicks your lobe as it sets your body a blaze. You cry uncontrollably as you plead with him to satisfy you so desperately. To a certain extent he’s enjoying this teasing game of cat and mouse he has going with you. But deep down he just wants to fuck you so hard that he’ll be the only man on your mind. He wants to be so consumed with all of you physically and mentally it’s tearing him up to an extent to see you begging, crying and pleading for him to fuck the living day lights out of you. So, he lets bygones by bygones and gives you just exactly what you needed. As another song ends he asks Alexa for another request.

“Play When we by Tank for me”, says Angel as a moan escapes from your lips.

He removes the restraints from your wrists as he softly kisses them, he goes for the blindfold as you move your head from his reach.

“Leave it on daddy. I just want to feel you”, as Angel rolls out a growl from his lips as he’s turned on and his dick is bricking up for your pleasure.

“Get on all fours baby. Head down ass up”, commands Angel as his voice has gotten deeper.

You bite your lip as music pours out from his system again.

When we

Mmm

When we

I like it when you lose it

I like it when you go there

I like the way you use it

Angel rubs his nose along your folds as you hold onto his bed sheets.

I like it that you don’t play fair

Recipe for a disaster

When I’m just try’na take my time

Stroke is getting’ deep and faster

You’re screamin’ like I’m out of line

His tongue is flattened against your clit as circles and sucks on as you gasp for air

“Don’t stop daddy don’t you dare fucking stop. I wanna come all over your beard please”, as you spur him on. You feel to finger hook inside your center as you buck your round ass against his face. He lets out a moan telling you that he likes it as you pump against his stiff faster. His licks against your clit are more sloppy and profound as you start to shake uncontrollably.

“Oh fuck Angel it’s right there daddy take me to it pleeeease”, you beg as he starts to smacks your ass cheeks one at a time back at forth. Those butterflies in your stomach start to flutter out of control as you take to jump.

“Come for daddy baby. Wet up your beard you love so much” as you lose your mind as you spasm against his bed.

Without noticing “Wet the Bed” is playing as a split-second later Angel enters you from behind filling you completely drawing all the air from you as he steadies himself inside you. He pulls your hair to meet his long deep strokes as he reaches around to rub your swollen clit. You come instantly as you slowly try to pull away from his deafening strokes as he laughs at you.

Bring it forward, don’t you run run

I don’t want to be a minute man

Baby you’re just like a storm

Rainin’ on me girl, your soakin wet, ooh whoa

He grabs his cell phone feeling himself at the moment as he starts filming. He snaps a couple of salacious pics of his dick penetrating in and out of you as your moans and cries mix with the skin to skin contact getting louder over the music.

“Fuck girl I love hearing the sweet sound of my dick slapping against my pussy and sweet ass. This is the money shot right here Colibri”, he grunts as he strokes faster connecting to your sweet spot over and over. His strokes are erratic and slowly losing control. He regains as he grabs your waist as he flips you on top of him as he strokes upward into you as he grounds his feet into the mattress.

“You’re mine forever Senorita”.

“Always and forever Mi dulce”.

“No one can’t take my place baby.”

His words alone spare you nothing as you come for him again.

“You hear me? Unless I must remind you again”, as his hot breath is against you ear sending you into over load as he digs his thick fingers into your skin leaving noticeable bruises.

“Yes daddy. Please remind me”, you moan as Angel flips you onto your back as his darker side kicks in. He removes the blindfold as he see you teary brown eyes as he rubs them away. He grabs your legs and pins your knees to meet your shoulders as he moves back and forth inside of you

His beds starts to rock back in forth against the wall as he digs deeper and harder into you. Sobbing cries are grabbed from you as you dig your nails into his skin as you hear his bed creak back and forth from him pounding into you.

“Soy tan adicto a ti papi”, you moan to him as he kisses you with such power behind it his kiss leaves you a sobbing muttering mess.

“Mi Mundo, Mi Todo”, Angel whispers to you as he bits your bottom lip again.

Your eyes glaze over as you dig your fingers into his hair as your signal to him that you about to cum again.

“Come with me daddy. Let me feel every drop of that pearly essence inside of me”, you whisper as you two come together as so strong that you both yell to the top of your lungs.

You both stay in the same position as you both began to breath evenly again as his head is resting against the crook of your neck.

“I love you Angel Ignacio Reyes” you whisper as your fingers play with his hair.

“Te quiero Y/F/N, Y/M/N, Y/L/N” as he kisses your neck softly.

“Angel I thought the frame was gonna give there for a bit” as Angel laughs at you comment.

“Nah, Colibri that’ll never happen. It’s too strong like the one who sleeps on it”, gloats Angel as you two slowly doze off to slumber as rain continues to fall.

Angel slightly adjusts his big body between your legs as there is a creaking sound.

“CRASH”, as the frame and headboard come apart.

Your eyes are wide as saucers when you realize what you said has come to fruition. Angel looks you in the eye as you attempt to suppress you sniggling giggles of laughter.

“Hmm maybe you should’ve let me come those 3 times you denied me and that would’ve never happened Angel”, you boasted.

“WHAT THE FUCK”, yells Angel as you can’t help but, laugh out loud as he tickles you.

#angel reyes #black reader #mayans mc #mayans fanfic #clayton cardenas #mayans fandom #mayans imagine #mayans fx #mayans drabble #mayans x reader #angel reyes x black!reader #angel reyes x you #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes x oc #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc x reader #black!reader

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thoughts-on-bangtan · 4 years ago

Text

Let’s talk about: RUN! BTS episode 125

by Admin 1 and Admin 2

So, episode 125 of RUN BTS aired yesterday and we thought it’d be fun to talk about it, share our favorite moments, things we noticed, and other miscellaneous things we thought would be nice to mention. The episode was filmed at their dorm and featured a special guest in form of Baek jong-won who is a famous Korean chef. The episode was special because of that, but also due to the fact that it was used to highlight Korean pork ham which uses the parts of pigs that usually don’t get chosen by restaurants and the average consumers, and also to honor Korean pig farmers in times of COVID.

The members were split into two teams, though Yoongi was missing in the episode which leads us to believe that the episode was likely filmed sometimes in December 2020 (as well as the fact that Tae had that pimple on his cheek which he also had in his birthday vlive). The teams—Tae, Jimin and Seokjin vs. Hoseok, Namjoon and JK—consisted of one person per team who knows what they are doing—Seokjin and JK—and two people with limited or a complete lack of knowledge in the kitchen. Each team was given a recipe they were supposed to cook using the aforementioned ham and that’s what they did, driving Chef Baek slightly crazy (but also making him seem endeared by Bangtan’s cluelessness and kind of lack of confidence within the kitchen) with their constant questions and requests for assistance.

Now that we have the general gist of the episode down, lets jump into the actual point of this post (it turned out quite long, if you don’t want to read the entire thing, perhaps at least read the last couple of paragraphs since they’re kind of important):

One thing that made both of us very, very happy was the fact that Tae was in an outstandingly good mood, cracking jokes and smiling the entire time. We’ve seen his quieter mood in episodes filmed in the first half of 2020, so seeing him this happy while filming this episode was truly amazing and once again made the episode even more special in that regard.

We also had Tae turn to Chef Baek and tell him about how his mom learned how to cook from him and if he could potentially get an autograph from him for his mom. This had Chef Baek all surprised and flustered, since he likely didn’t expect a member of the biggest group in Korea to want his autograph, saying that if anything shouldn’t he be the one asking this question. At that also Namjoon spoke up and quietly asked if he could get one for his mom as well since otherwise he wouldn’t be allowed to come home. In his vlive after the RUN episode was posted, Namjoon mentioned how yes, he did get that autograph in the end and that he also gave the knife to his mom as well since a knife like that is dangerous. Adorable.

At some point JK asked Chef Baek the golden question of whether or not he likes mint chocolate ice cream, followed by the question of pineapple on pizza, yes or no, and how that’s a question they are, for some reason, asked quite frequently when abroad. This was followed by Tae asking if he can eat eight crackers in a minute which led to the following commentary from Jimin:

Another detail we thought was quite funny was how instead of doing something related to cooking, Tae spent some time moving around the kitchen space cleaning away trash or washing dishes, therefore evading having to cook since it seems that isn’t his forte or he simply knew that Jimin and Seokjin would manage to do it just fine. But he did attempt to make rice, which though it turned out well, still was accompanied not only by him asking Chef Baek if he should use cold or warm water, but also Tae grabbing Jimin to ask him for help with the rice cooker.

Speaking of the rice cooker, the very one they used in the episode seems to be the same one they’ve been using since about 2014 and, if I remember correctly, might’ve been a gift from ARMY. This isn’t the only kitchen item they got from ARMY and still own and use to this day, since they also (among other things) have a set of colored bowls that can be seen standing on the shelves.

2014

2020

Something very endearing and cute though was Namjoon peeling a potato in tiny, which reminded me very much of that time around the campfire in Bon Voyage 4. Knowing Namjoon, looking at him peeling it so carefully, we were both kind of worried he might somehow hurt himself while doing it, which by no means is us trying to portray Namjoon as too stupid to do it or anything like that, but he himself said he isn’t that great in the kitchen after all.

After waiting for it since summer 2019, we finally also got a look at JK’s forearm and all the tattoos on it in HD, a big step up from looking at the blurry shots of it in Bon Voyage 4 or their refection in some microwave. ARMY on sns went crazy over it, most staying respectful while also curious, though of course there were also some idiots who felt the need to voice their negative opinions no one asked for. I think it’s an interesting step, and perhaps a really valuable one, that he felt confident and assured enough to show them to us instead of having the editors blur them like they’ve done so in episodes of In The SOOP (both the TV and Weverse versions).

At the end of the episode they all sat down together so that Chef Baek could try their dishes, with someone asking him if maybe they could all win those special engraved knives after all but Chef Baek seemed adamant about how only one team can win. While he tried their dishes Chef Baek complemented different things that the members had done well, leading Seokjin to turn red as he does whenever someone complements him, as well as Jimin looking fond and proud of Tae when Chef Baek complemented something Tae had done and they even high fived each other. Very cute and supportive, love that.

Before he chose a winner, everyone in their respective teams held hands and waited in anticipation to see who won. Thanks to editing we didn’t see the moment of Chef Baek raising the winner’s hand, which created a comedic moment where Seokjin stood up yelling triumphantly just to be very confused when also the other team was cheering. Meaning in the end all of them won and received the knives, including Yoongi despite him not being present. The teams stood up for group hugs where, I don’t know if you noticed, but we thought it was quite cute how vmin hugging seemed so natural and like something they’ve done this way a million times already with Jimin slotting his shoulder below Tae’s arm and his body against Tae’s “automatically” while being a little unsure what to do with his other arm before moving it to pull Seokjin into the hug as well. It’s these little things about Tae and Jimin that get us, you know.

Also someone pointed out a cute parallel between a famous vmin hug picture and Jimin’s arm/hand on Tae’s back during the group hug that I thought we’d show you as well.

Something I think this episode showed us in terms of vmin content is that, even if there aren’t many obvious “moments” (due to obvious reasons I kind of really don’t like that term but for a lack of a better one…), it’s still clear to see in the background how they gravitate toward each other, which of course you can argue was because they’re in the same team, but that doesn’t change the fact that Tae or Jimin could’ve just as well interacted with/asked Seokjin for things or giggled with him, but instead they still had their little moments with each other, while of course also interacting with Seokjin. We’re definitely curious if the Behind cut will show us some more of the vmin moments that we just got glimpses at in the background in the main episode.

As for namjin, since they were on different teams, there weren’t really any interactions between those two but that’s okay. Their interactions with their own teammates were great enough, Namjoon’s team trying to include him in the process even if he himself said the only thing he actually did was peel those potatoes.

A final thing we’d want to mention is a glimpse we got of the sheer number of cameras and people that were present in the background while they were filming this episode, which are likely also present during every other episode and piece of content they film. Looking at that, it doesn’t surprise us in the slightest that vmin (and even namjin, and the other members) might not be as eager/willing to show the true version/amount of affection they have for each other. I mean, who would want to showcase themselves in such a manner in front of so many lenses and eyes, even more so since for the filming of this episode surely also staff belonging to Chef Baek were present?

I think it’s important to keep these things in mind when we discuss vmin (and namjin) interactions in most of their content. Since we usually don’t see their staff and cameras, it creates this illusion of it just being them present and doing their thing, when in reality they are constantly being watched by a number of staff and cameras. Would you really want to be all over your soulmate while you’re being watched like that? Especially in more meaningful ways? Surely these things were easier for them when they were younger, a little greener and more inexperienced, so to speak, and not yet quite so (potentially) emotionally involved with each other, but now? After?

It certainly explains quite a bit of what some insist on classifying as “cold” or “distanced” behavior, doesn’t it? It’s easier to play the role you created for yourself and, in a way, use as shield (BTS V and BTS Jimin, BTS RM and BTS Jin) instead of showing your private (Kim Taehyung and Park Jimin, Kim Namjoon and Kim Seokjin) emotions and behaviors with each other, you know what I mean?

All in all, it was a really, really fun episode that had us howling with laughter.

#bts #bangtan sonyeondan #vmin #taehyung #jimin #namjoon #seokjin #bts run #bts run episode 125 #some thoughts on the episode

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cheri-translates · 4 years ago

Text

Are you Ready?

Recipe for the perfect birthday:

20 spoonfuls of fluff

A sprinkle of suggestiveness

Finely grated nostalgia

Your jaw drops when you look up from your phone to the sound of the balcony door sliding open.

You’ve only seen Gavin with a bare forehead the grand total of one time. That momentous occurrence happened over a year ago, when you were both locked in the makeup room as victims of a prank.

Amber eyes unobstructed by his typically messy chestnut fringe with the help of a clip, Gavin exudes a softer and more refreshed vibe than usual.

“Ah,” is all you intelligently muster.

Gavin’s smile falters in response to your odd greeting. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yes! Have a seat,” you choke, tearing your eyes away from him and regaining the ability to converse like a human being. “I’ll bring out some drinks.”

The late afternoon sunlight streams in through the sheer curtains, illuminating the living room.

“Are you sure you should be drinking that?” Gavin questions, eyeing the ice-cold drink in your hand. “It’s almost… that time of the month.”

“I’ll be fine,” you respond, plopping down beside him on the couch.

Funny how he can remember such things and yet forget that it’s his birthday...

If it were any other day, you’d be feeling sluggish and drained in such humid weather. However, the anticipation blooming in your chest since this morning leaves you feeling restless.

Gavin’s fringe (or the lack thereof) only makes matters worse.

Act normal, your mind keeps chanting, but to no avail. The colourful images and upbeat music from Mario Kart just aren’t enticing enough to retain your attention.

With his eyes on the screen, fingers tapping buttons on the controller, Gavin doesn’t notice you sneaking peeks at his side profile every few seconds.

What he does notice is that you’re slightly off your game today.

You’ve always taken pride at being a professional Mario Kart player, even clinching multiple victories over Kiro, the self-proclaimed champion.

Which is why he thinks it’s a fluke when you end up in last place.

But when the same thing happens in the following two races (despite his deliberate efforts to guide his avatar off the track), he senses that something is incredibly wrong.

He pauses the game.

Setting the controller to the side, he shifts and presses the back of his hand against your forehead.

His voice is laced with worry. “Are you not feeling well?”

Studying your face for any hint of discomfort, he wonders why your eyes are glued to the area above his eyebrows...

He retracts his hand swiftly and the tips of his ears redden.

“My fringe is getting too long. It’s been grazing my eyes,” he explains, rubbing the back of his neck. “Is it that strange?”

You wave your hands in front of him frantically. “No, no! It makes you look good.”

“Oh,” he responds. After a short pause, he continues.

“I could keep my hair this way if you like it.”

You let out a huff, knowing full well that he isn’t comfortable having his fringe pulled back. “Would you get a shaved head if I wanted you to?”

“Sure,” he responds without missing a beat. “Whatever makes you happy.”

You didn’t expect such a serious expression in response to your joke. A fuzzy sensation sprouts in your heart.

“You spoil me too much...” you lower your head, heat rushing to your cheeks.

“I’ll do anything to make you smile,” he says, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world.

His words – always so heartfelt.

His rough, calloused hands stroke the side of your cheek. Your palm reaches upwards to meet his, wanting to fully soak in his warmth.

“Hm? What are these?” he asks, noticing the tiny lacerations on your finger pads.

You were hoping he wouldn’t notice...

“They’re just paper cuts from work. They barely sting, don’t worry,” you assure him with a smile.

He furrows his brows. “You’ve got to be more careful.”

“Says the person who got stabbed a few days ago,” you murmur, poking the creases in between his eyebrows.

He sighs, retracting his hand from your cheek. He gathers your fingers together and brings them to his lips.

His actions – always so tender.

Affection wells up in your chest, and you’re filled with a sudden impulse to express just how he makes you feel.

Adjusting your position, you gather your feet under yourself, the couch dipping where your knees sink into the soft fabric. He responds instinctively to your movements, reaching out to steady your waist. He watches you curiously as you plant both hands on his shoulders.

When you lean in, your scent rolls off like a warm embrace of vanilla to his senses.

With an upward tilt of your head, you plant a light kiss on his bare forehead.

“This mind comes up with so many ways to make me happy. I never knew just one person could be the source of my happiness. It’s probably because that person is you.”

Your lips return to his skin in the form of feathery kisses above Gavin’s eyelids.

“These eyes are beautiful. As warm as Autumn, and as bright as starlight. The best part? They belong to my Jupiter, who has been watching over me since our days in Loveland High.”

You lean around him, giving him a quick peck on his right ear.

“These ears have been so attentive to my petty complaints and even words unspoken,” you whisper. “Have I mentioned how they flush an adorable red when I do something like this?”

Gavin tenses up in response to your light nibbling.

You trail slow kisses down his jawline, ending at his chin.

“Mmm, perfect bone structure.”

Gavin lets out a low, breathy chuckle.

You cup Gavin’s face in your hand, thumb brushing one corner of his lips as you give him a quick peck on the other.

“This mouth…”

Both your lips are parted slightly, and your breaths mingle in the space between. “I’ve been the lucky recipient of their sugary affection and sincere promises.”

With one final nip at his bottom lip, you pull away, sitting back on your heels.

You guide Gavin’s hands away from your waist and bring them into your lap.

A comfortable silence fills the room. There is a gentle look in Gavin’s eyes, mixed with a spark of anticipation.

He clears his throat.

“I-”

Your phone buzzes unceremoniously.

You stifle a groan, scooting to the edge of the sofa to grab the phone off the coffee table, hoping Gavin wouldn’t notice the way you discreetly tilt the screen away from his line of sight.

[Message from Shaw:] Hey. Which flavour?

[Message from Shaw:] If you don't reply soon, Minor’s going to get every cake in the shop. Boy’s in full-blown panic mode.

[Message from Shaw:] Eli isn’t helping.

You hurriedly type a response.

Gavin watches you from the side, slightly deflated. He fiddles mindlessly with the game controller while waiting for you to finish.

Over the past few months, the brothers have been taking small but steady steps to repairing their relationship. Although they are far from being chummy, meeting up for meals has become a weekly affair.

After all, it’s impossible for Gavin to harbour animosity towards someone who protected and took care of you in the World of Eternal Winter.

Once you’re done, you place the phone back on the table and return your gaze to Gavin.

Suddenly struck with an idea, you stand up and pull him to his feet.

“Come on, I’ll trim your fringe.”

Soon, Gavin finds himself seated on a grey plastic stool in your shower cubicle. Hands hanging loosely between his thighs, he leaves the fate of his fringe in your hands.

You carefully remove the thin clip from Gavin’s hair and sweep his bangs to the front. Setting the clip aside, you retrieve a pair of hair scissors from the cabinet.

Eyes narrowed in concentration, you comb your fingers through his bangs, clipping the soft tufts between your fore and middle fingers.

His hair feels like silk under your fingertips.

Gently tugging them towards you, you make a few clean snips. Strands of chestnut hair fall to the floor.

Noticing a few tiny stray hairs on Gavin’s face, you lean downwards to swipe them off his cheek. Gavin inhales sharply, and you watch as a furious shade of red tints his ears.

Following his line of sight, you peer down at yourself.

Oh.

He was basically given a front row ticket to viewing what lies underneath your loose-fitting shirt.

Tickled by his reaction, you’re tempted to tease him.

“Is Officer Gavin looking at something he shouldn’t be looking at?”

He flinches and squeezes his eyes shut. “N-not anymore,” he mutters.

You release a laugh, straightening up and storing the scissors away. You brush his fringe back to its usual position and take a step back to appreciate your masterpiece.

“All right, it should be done.”

His eyes drift open and a small smile graces his lips. “Thank you.”

You beckon Gavin to follow you over to the sink.

“Satisfied?” you ask, glancing at his reflection in the mirror as he stands behind you. Despite the initial novelty of seeing him without a fringe, this is the Gavin you’re used to.

While you bask in the triumph of your fringe-cutting skills, he snakes an arm around your waist and pulls you flush against his chest.

In a low voice, he breathes.

“Not yet.”

You snuggle against him, relishing the way the your body fits into his, the curve of your spine against his chest. Your fingers move to meet his, dancing on the back of his hand.

His other arm wraps around your waist, fully encasing you within his arms. He lowers his head, nestling his chin into the crook of your shoulder.

You sigh contentedly. The both of you remain in this position for a while.

Everything about today has been perfect.

No, you correct yourself. Every day with him is perfect.

Gently, you weasel out of his grip. He loosens his hold on your waist, slightly confused. You turn around, eyes flicking to his lips. The confusion in his amber orbs vanish in an instant, replaced with a darkening hue.

He smiles softly before he blurs in your vision, pressing his slightly chapped and warm lips onto yours.

Your eyelids flutter shut, melting into the sensation of the tip of his tongue bribing your lips open.

When he whispers, slightly breathless, you taste honey in his words.

“I love you.”

You love him too.

And right now, you really, really want him.

Even through his clothes, you can feel heat emanating from his body. Your fingertips feel for the hem of his shirt, skitter up his bare skin, and-

Click.

The sudden noise startles you, and the intensity of seconds earlier extinguishes without a trace, along with the heat on your back.

Your eyes snap open, only to find Shaw standing outside the bathroom with a cheeky smirk, the top half of his face covered by the Polaroid camera in his hand.

Minor is next to him, face in his hands, peeking at the scene from the space between his fingers. The spare house key you had entrusted to him hangs from his thumb.

“Why are you guys here so early?” you hurriedly straighten your ruffled clothes, utterly mortified. “Didn’t I say you could take your time?”

Shaw retrieves the Polaroid print from the camera and dangles it in the air. “Cakes don’t do well in heat, you know.”

Gavin walks up to him with a blank expression, snatching the polaroid print from him. “Cake?”

And then it dawns on him.

With a sheepish expression on his face, he returns to your side. Taking your hand into his, he gives it a squeeze. “It’s hard to keep track when every day with you feels like my birthday.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Shaw smirks before dragging Minor away. “You guys can continue with the R-21 stuff.”

“We’re not going to!” you shout after them.

A few seconds later, you hear muffled clanging from the kitchen, and Eli’s voice booming a “WHAT?”, followed by Shaw’s snigger.

You sag against the mosaic tiles and let out a long breath.

The Polaroid print rests on top of a stack of white towels, evidence of your mutual display of passion gradually surfacing on it.

Hearing a thud, you look up to see that Gavin has closed the door, and has a rare, teasing light in his eyes.

Grabbing your wrist, he yanks you towards him.

“We’re not?” he whispers into your ear.

With a twist of his wrist, the door is locked.

“Took you two long enough,” Eli grins as he glances up in the middle of his arm-wrestling match with Shaw. “Had fun?”

The three guests are seated around the dining table. Shaw has a frown on his face while his arm strains against Eli’s. Minor fidgets in his seat, looking expectantly at the food.

Completely ignoring his question, Gavin’s eyes sweep across the table.

It is positively overflowing with dishes, featuring all of his favourite Sichuan dishes - beef noodles, sweet and sour ribs, spicy tofu, shredded pork, stuffed tofu, and stir-fried tomato and eggs.

Seeing the stunned expression on Gavin’s face, Minor decides to pipe in.

“Shaw chose- OOF.”

“Tch,” Shaw interjects, elbowing Minor in the gut and losing the arm-wrestling match in the process. “Should I reveal that you got him a personalised choker-”

With a gasp, Minor claps a hand over Shaw’s mouth. “At least it’s better than Eli’s gift...”

“Hey, no fighting in front of the birthday boy,” Eli laughs good-naturedly, patting the empty chair next to him. “Come on, the food’s getting cold.”

The cake cutting ceremony was a smooth and peaceful affair - apart from the round of collective sighs and the loud “you had ONE job Minor” when the cake was taken out of the box with the words “Happy Birthday Gavim” on it.

After clearing the dining table, the five of you are currently seated on the floor around the coffee table, chatting idly. Cans of cola (kindly sponsored by Shaw) rest atop it.

You decide that now is a good time to give Gavin your present.

You’re pretty sure he’d be happy with anything you give him, even if it’s just a random seashell you found on the beach. Even so, you still feel nervous, and hope that the paper cuts sustained and the late nights pooled into preparing it were worth it.

Gavin eyes the light brown spiral-bound book you’ve placed in front of him. His brows quirk upwards in amusement at the many tiny paper cut-outs of your faces pasted on the cover, forming a huge word: “Us”.

When he flips through the scrapbook, you hear the breath catch in his throat.

With every rustle, he is greeted by pages adorned with photographs and souvenirs documenting your time together.

A map of the theme park.

Coupons to the paintball club.

An acknowledgement slip with rental details for a snowmobile.

Tickets to the planetarium.

A handwritten thank-you note from Mr Keller.

Things which surely appear random and insignificant to an outsider, but are infinitely precious to the two of you. Without realising it, you’ve taken his arm, leaning your head on his shoulder.

One page has a selfie recording the first time you assisted Gavin in giving Sparky a bath.

Said motorcycle is in the foreground, its black sheen glistening with pride under the afternoon sun. You’re grinning and doing a V sign while gripping a sponge, the other hand busy holding the phone steady. Gavin, with a tiny smile on his face, has an arm around you. Soap bubbles decorate your cheeks.

With a few more flips, a particular photograph channels hazy memories in your mind. It’s a picture of a pink bowl containing porridge. That day, he had carried you home on his shoulder after catching you at work despite having a fever.

While the porridge he prepared was bland beyond compare, having him feed you patiently while donned in one of your aprons – which was far too yellow and far too tiny for him – made it the sweetest dish you’ve ever eaten.

The warm pressure on your forehead as you drifted in and out of a medicine-induced sleep was just the cherry on top.

A bigger sized, light blue apron became a permanent feature in your kitchen a few days after that.

On another page, there are photos of shadow puppets cast on your bedroom wall.

You feel a faint heat rushing to your cheeks. Eyes flitting over to Gavin, you see that his cheeks are tinged a slight red as well.

Your chest tightens, hoping your guests wouldn’t notice and demand an explanation on what exactly happened after the photos were taken.

That night, you had roused to howling wind beating against the window, as well as Gavin’s violent gasps for breath, his skin damp with cold sweat.

While he struggled to replace nightmares of fires with realities of peace, you had wiped away his tears with utmost gentleness, before wiping away your own.

After his heart regained a steady rhythm, you taught him how to form shadow puppets with his fingers while the starlight floor lamp turned your room into a swirling sea of stars.

“What was your mother like?” your shadow dog mouthed on the wall.

Mimicking your actions, he curled his index finger, lifted his thumb and opened and closed his pinkie.

“She had a beautiful and strong heart,” his shadow dog mouthed back. “Like you.”

He told you about the pain of loss, missed opportunities, and fears.

You told him about the beauty of love, second chances, and promises of forever.

The flood of emotions coursing through your veins manifested itself in a tangible manner that night.

Exhausted, you fell asleep in each other’s embrace, hands and hearts connected.

That was the last time he had a nightmare.

The pages are lined with numerous candid shots, held in place by adorable wolf and rabbit stickers:

Gavin with his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, struggling to salvage drops of ice-cream before they slide off the cone. A boy wearing a panda hat is standing next to him with a wide grin, hugging his new teddy bear contentedly.

Flip.

Several pictures of Pearly, each one taken during his sporadic visits. One features Pearly hopping on Gavin’s palm, a birdseed in his beak. Another features Pearly snuggled in the small colourful birdhouse you built and painted together with Gavin.

Flip.

Gavin in the middle of telling Little Spiky about his day after you found a link on Moments detailing how speaking to plants helps them grow.

Flip.

A photograph of him leaning against your couch, arms crossed over his chest and eyes covered by a lavender mask, blissfully unaware that you’ve drawn a squiggly moustache above his upper lip...

The minutes pass quietly. His eyes are glazed over, watching a replay of the little lifetime you’ve crafted with him.

Some images are vivid, some a little blurry. But they are all narrated by a blend of both of your voices.

“Do you remember me?”

“Gavin… from school?”

“Surprised? You probably thought I would be in a jail rather than a police station, right?”

“Believe me when I say I want to get to know the real you!”

“When you’re eating, when you’re sleeping, when you’re happy, when you’re sad, or wearing a tuxedo, or red in the face from drinking... all of it. I want to see every side of you.”

“Every side of me belongs to you. And you… are mine.”

“No matter how many lifetimes, you will always have the best of me.”

“Gavin, have you ever thought about... what if we didn’t have the chance to meet again?”

“Yes I have...if I wasn’t there, would someone be looking out for her? Would someone fall in love with her? Would she like someone else? So, if I were to meet her again, I must hold onto her. And never let her go again.”

“I can’t wait to fill the remaining pages with you. And the many scrapbooks after that.”

It takes a while for Gavin to realise that you’re talking to him. Snapping back to reality, he sees his hand resting on the page dedicated to the “Fairytale Dreamland” collaboration your company did with the theme park.

He sucks in a breath through slightly parted lips.

And then he speaks, soft but resolute.

“I know how we can fill in the next page.”

The tone in his voice causes several eyes to shoot towards him.

Gavin casts Shaw a meaningful glance. Oddly cooperative, Shaw holds up the Polaroid camera, a knowing smile quirking up his face.

“Are you ready?” Gavin asks, shifting to face you.

“For a photo?” you clarify, reaching out to tidy tendrils of hair from your face.

“No,” he responds gently, with a smile he reserves only for you.

With aching slowness, he reaches into his pocket.

The mood in the room shifts.

He has imagined a thousand different scenarios on how this would go.

This wasn’t one of them. Not with colourful wrapping paper strewn around the living room, and a body pillow of Eli slumped against the bookshelf.

But it’s perfect.

His fingers unfurl to reveal a small platinum band in his palm, an intricate ginkgo leaf design on it.

You have imagined a thousand different scenarios on how this would go.

This wasn’t one of them. Not with the faint smell of food wafting in the air, the kitchen sink filled with unwashed dishes, and a body pillow of Eli slumped against the bookshelf.

But it’s perfect.

You want to carve everything about this moment into your heart.

The look in his eyes. The subtle trembling of his fingers. Minor clasping his hands together, looking as though he’s about to combust.

Gavin takes a deep breath. A small, hopeful smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“Are you ready to be my bride?”

He wants to carve everything about this moment into his heart.

The look in your eyes. The way his bracelet dangles as your hand moves to your chest. The first droplets of a drizzle pattering against the window. Eli beaming, as though he’s the one being asked a life-changing question.

The seconds stretch out as he waits for your response.

Then, as the words finally, finally register, your vision blurs.

Everything falls away. You forget the party, the guests, how to breathe, and even that cursed body pillow.

There are about a million things you want to say, but only one word seems right.

You capture Gavin in a tight hug, burying your face in the crook of his neck. His hands are in your hair, pulling you closer.

The warmth of your breath creates a waterfall of prickles down his neck.

“Yes.”

Click.

🍒 I commissioned several talented artists on Fiverr to do the art for this one-shot! Full versions and names of the artists below:

Haircut and Shadow puppets (by Rakuumon) (they got his eye colour wrong but it’s still cute T^T)

Proposal (by Rickyliauw)

An adorable version of the proposal (by Ochicat) to thank you for reading this far ❤️

#birdcopcelebration #cheri tries to write

191 notes · View notes

isitgintimeyet · 4 years ago

Text

Just a Friend

Hope you enjoy the next chapter of this story. Thanks to you all for reading this. You comments are lovely to read.

Thanks to @wickedgoodbooks for the beta

AO3

Chapter 5: From Facebook to Friends

When I was a little girl, Uncle Lamb would sometimes take me into university with him. I would creep into the lecture theatre and sit at the back watching him as he enthused about Phoenician trade routes, or long gone military strategies. I didn’t really understand what he was talking about, but I loved it anyway. The passion he had for his subject matter thrilled me.

And once the lecture was over, I would join him in his office and we would squeeze together in an old armchair, drinking hot, sweet tea while he tried to explain the principles of a three thousand year old civilisation in words a seven year old would understand.

The armchair is now in my office at the hospital. It looks more than a bit incongruous amongst the standard NHS furniture. The rich green velvet fabric has faded to a shabby eau de nil colour and years of shuffling bottoms have left a large depression in the seat cushion. But I won’t have it reupholstered. I love it as it is. It’s a great reminder of my wonderful uncle. I sit in it and somehow it comforts me, like a soothing hug.

**********************

I glance at the clock as I walk into my office, paper cup of hot, sweet tea in hand, and head straight for Lamb’s chair. Gratefully, I sink into its depths and take a tentative sip of the steaming liquid before closing my eyes for a moment. The surgery was long; much longer than anticipated—having taken all morning and most of the afternoon, in fact. It had also been far more complicated—my original plans for keyhole surgery had to be changed, but, eventually, we completed the operation successfully. I’m always proud of my theatre team, but never more so than in situations like this.

And now, after hours of concentration, I feel in need of some light relief. I can go home, have a wonderfully reviving shower and then what? I know that Dougal is taking Geillis out for a meal tonight, so she’s not available. Mary and Anna are both working nights this week, so no joy there. Other friends live too far away for an impromptu midweek activity. I could go to the gym. I should go to the gym. Or… more likely, I’ll go home, have cheese on toast, a glass of wine and watch ‘The Devil Wears Prada’ for the fifteenth time instead.

I reach for my phone to check for messages. A notification for a Facebook friend request appears on my screen. I very rarely get new friend requests—other than the odd random gentleman hoping, I presume, to make some sort of connection. I always delete immediately.

And, yes, the request is from a gentleman—one Jamie Fraser. The profile picture is definitely Samsonite Jamie, even wearing the Scotland rugby shirt I fingered whilst foraging through his suitcase. I click accept. Why not? I don’t think I have anything too embarrassing on my posts. In fact, I don’t use it very often at all.

Neither, it seems, does Mr. Fraser. His cover photo shows a very youthful bunch of Scottish rugby supporters and his recent timeline seems to comprise mostly of being tagged in photos by Laoghaire Mackenzie. Is it my imagination, or does he have a resigned look on his face on each of their ‘selfies’?

My tea is cool enough to drink now without scalding my tongue. I put my phone down and take a large gulp whilst considering tomorrow’s workload. My job is a series of highs and lows. Today, for example, started as routine, slumped to a worrying low, before peaking at a very relieved high. Tomorrow appears to be an easier day, certainly—a review of patients’ case notes in the morning followed by an outpatient clinic in the afternoon. All follow up patients, and all doing well as far as I know, so tomorrow is shaping up to be a very good day.

I open up my phone again. Facebook messenger is encouraging me to ‘say hi to your new Facebook friend.’ Without thinking, I send a little waving hand emoji to Samsonite Jamie.

I have no sooner put the phone down than it pings. Waving hand returned. I smile. What are we… thirteen years old? Next I’ll be asking him out for an Irn Bru and a bag of chips.

Ping again.

You owe me…

Shit! The stain on his t-shirt, no doubt. I watch the dots on the screen. Perhaps he’s calculating the cost of a dry cleaner, or a new t-shirt.

You promised me an ice cream.

You up for buying one for me tonight?

I hesitate for a moment. I hope Jamie doesn’t think I’m after him or anything like that. I mean, he’s not really my type. As I’ve said before, I’ve always been attracted to academic, cerebral kind of men like Uncle Lamb, rather than Viking marauders.

And I’ve never subscribed to the idea that men and women can’t be friends. One of my closest friends at university was a man—Joe Abernathy. If it wasn't for the fact that he is currently three thousand miles away, working in Boston, I would be arranging platonic ice cream outings with him.

So, deciding I have nothing to lose, I type my response.

If you can get to the kiosk by 6:30, it should still be open

A brief pause, then the response.

Great. See you there?

****************

Even at a distance, I recognise him sitting at a table next to the kiosk. No white t-shirt today, it looks like some sort of check lumberjack shirt. I breathe a sigh of relief. Not what I would call ‘first date’ clothing. Which is handy, seeing as I’m wearing ripped jeans and an oversized Aran jumper. I’m clean, presentable and fresh-smelling but definitely not dressed to impress.

He stands up when he sees me and greets me formally with a handshake. His hands are warm and dry—no nervous, sweaty palms here, which is another good sign. His shirt is blue, red and cream flannel and actually quite hideous.

“I hope this ice cream lives up tae ma expectations,” he says with the merest hint of challenge.

I crane my neck and look him straight in the eye. “No doubt at all. Cherry bakewell, is it? Double cone?”

“Aye. With a flake too. Compensation, ye ken.”

He stands aside to allow me to make the purchases. Before accepting the cone, he picks up half a dozen or so paper napkins and stuffs them in the pocket of his jeans.

“I’m prepared fer ye now. Do yer worst, Ms Beauchamp.”

I ignore his clear inference and follow him to a nearby bench.

“I can manage to eat and walk at the same time, you know,” I say in mock indignation.

“Hm,” he replies. “All the evidence sae far suggests the contrary. I need proof afore I believe it.”

There’s a moment of silence as we both focus on our ice creams. I lick neatly all the way around, trying to prevent any rogue drips trickling down the cone. Jamie pulls the flake from his cone and consumes it in two mouthfuls. He looks at me and laughs.

“Caught me. I’m a bit of a bugger fer chocolate,” he mumbles before swallowing.

“Right,” he continues, much more clearly now. “I suggest we get all the boring stuff out of the way. Ye ken, name, age, family, job, blah, blah blah. I’ll go first, if ye like.”

I nod my agreement.

“Sae, I’m James or Jamie Fraser. I’m thirty years old. Since our last conversation I am most definitely single. I live in Glasgow, obviously, but grew up on a farm near Inverness. My parents still run the farm. I have one sister, Jenny, who’s married tae Ian, my childhood friend. I have one nephew—a grand little lad known as Wee Jamie and a wee baby niece, Maggie . And I dinna think it’ll be long afore they’re joined by others. They all live here in Glasgow. My job, weel, I have a business—FraserFood—recipe boxes delivered tae yer door.”

“Oh, yes, I’ve heard of that. ‘From farm to fork.” That’s you, is it?”

He smiles proudly. “Aye, it’s me and ma family. Looks like ma marketing manager is doing a fine job, then.”

“Oh, forgot tae say, after the blah blah, ye have tae tell one confession. Only a wee one, mind.” He takes a large mouthful of his ice cream.

I purse my lips. “Really, and what if I’ve nothing to confess?”

Jamie snorts with laughter and does a funny sort of blink, screwing up his face and closing both eyes. Is he trying to wink? If so, he’s failing miserably. I try to look angelic and sin free. Judging by the look of scepticism on his face, It doesn’t seem to be working.

“Sae, my confession is, dah-dah-daaaah,” he does a fake fanfare, trying to build suspense. “I wanted tae be yer friend on Facebook because I wanted tae see if there were any photos of ye in Barcelona, with all yer...er… accessories.”

I feel myself redden. I’ve just remembered catching Geillis on Facebook the other day at work and I’m pretty sure I know what’s coming next.

“Verra interesting… in particular, the one with ye and six penis shot glasses. How d’ye manage tae get two of them in yer mouth at the same time?”

I inwardly curse Geillis and her desire to live her life through social media.

“Excuse me,” I reply somewhat primly. “I don’t think we’re at the Q and A stage yet.”

“So,” I continue in a lighter tone. “Me. Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp. I’m thirty two and I’m a paediatric orthopaedic surgeon, here at the children’s hospital. I love my job so much, I can’t begin to tell you. As of two weeks ago, I am thankfully single. I was born in Oxford and moved up here when I was twelve, when my Uncle Lamb became a professor at the university. He brought me up, you know. Raised me when my parents died in a car accident... I… er...I was four at the time.”

I can feel Jamie looking at me, but I can’t raise my eyes. Telling people about my parents never gets any easier, no matter how many times I say those words. I concentrate on picking bits of wafer off my cone and throwing them to the ducks loitering nearby, waiting for some sort of treat.

“So it always was just my uncle and me.” I carry on talking. “Then he died… seven...seven years ago…” I can hear my voice start to crack as I fight back tears. A hand creeps into my vision and I gratefully accept the proffered paper napkin and wipe my face.

“Och, lass.” He says softly.

I clear my throat. “I'm sorry. We were having a nice conversation and then there I go, getting all teary. It’s just, well, we were a team, Uncle Lamb and I… the two musketeers. He was my hero.”

Blowing my nose in a most unladylike way, I toss the napkin into the neighbouring bin.

“And that’s pretty much me. As for a confession, well… I suppose it’s kind of one.”

He raises one eyebrow quizzically, making a better job of that than the whole winking lark, I think.

"Ok, well, when I had your case, I tried to ring before I emailed you. I called the number in your case… twice. A woman answered and told me I had the wrong number—"

"Laoghaire."

"I know that now. But she obviously knew how to get onto your phone."

"Why did ye no' tell me?" He smiles as he says this. It's not a reprimand.

"I would have but you seemed to be coming to a conclusion anyway. No need to add more fuel to the fire."

"Happen ye're right."

He notices me shivering and gets to his feet. “Aye, there’s a bit of a chill. Fancy a wee walk tae warm up and we can carry on wi’ round two. It’s a quick fire round.”

I stand up and we move away from the pond. The ducks have already lost interest in us since they realise that we’ve nothing more to offer them. It’s pretty quiet in the park now, the cooler evening air seems to have kept people at home. The gravel crunching loudly under the soles of our shoes, I glance down and notice Jamie’s doing a sort of awkward stuttering movement with his feet. He’s clearly trying to match his stride pattern to mine. Which isn’t easy when his must be a good few inches longer than mine. Nice, considerate gesture, though.

“Sae, quick fire questions and answers. Ye can go first,” he says generously.

It only takes me a moment to think of a question that I have been wondering about ever since I explored the contents of his suitcase.

“What were you doing in Barcelona? I mean the contents of your case weren’t really fun-weekend-away stuff.”

“Nah, ye’re right. It wasna a holiday—flying visit only. I was there on business—talking tae a food wholesale company. Serrano ham, chorizo, saffron, that kind of thing,” he explains, a look of excitement on his face. “We’re expanding our range, starting with Spanish influenced recipes. A full three courses ready tae prepare, plus wine delivered straight tae yer door. Dinner party FraserFood style.”

He can’t stop smiling as he talks about these plans. And his hands move animatedly as he continues to elaborate on his new venture. His business is obviously his passion. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t got the desire for a relationship with a girlfriend—FraserFood seems to be his one love. No girl could compete.

He stops talking for a moment. “And here I am, boring ye.”

I shake my head. “Not at all, it’s really interesting.” I don’t have to lie. It’s the truth. My mouth is watering at his description of albondigas and flavoursome chicken and chorizo with cannellini beans. I’m ready to sign up for this delivery service any time.

“Sae, ma turn tae ask a question. Tell me, d’ye like this shirt?”

I try to stifle a laugh. The question is so unexpected and the shirt so awful. Trying to be diplomatic, I search for the right words, evading the actual question. “I’ve only seen you in white tops before, no colours.”

He sighs. “Ye’ve only seen me twice afore... anyway I dinna think ye need tae say any more. I ken ye’re being polite, but ye’re a terrible liar. I can tell by yer face ye dinna like this shirt. Laoghaire hated it, always made me change it. I did wonder if that was jes’ her being difficult. But apparently no’.”

“Sorry, I didn’t want to be rude.”

“Ye dinna need tae apologise, Claire. Being honest is a good thing, is it no’? And friends should always tell each other the truth. And that’s what I think we’re going tae be, Claire— friends. D’ye no’ agree?”

I crane my neck and look Jamie straight in the eye. “Yes, I do… friends.”

#outlander fanfiction #outlander fanfic #Just a Friend #Jamie Fraser #Claire Beauchamp #Chapter 5

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hargrove-mayfields · 4 years ago

Text

Lover, Lover, Number 9

Second day of HWOL!! Today’s prompt was Love Potion!! Read here or on my ao3 @ej_writer

Word Count: 4,593

Rating: T

Warnings: Non-Consensual Touching (Pretty much blink and you miss it and very non-explicit. It happens while a person(s) is under the influence of a love potion.)

It’s all Max’s fault, honest.

For the week leading up to Valentine’s Day, Billy’s been trying to pick the best person to be his date. Not that Valentine’s was really that important to him, per se, but he’d made a bet.

His step sister, the little brat, had made a wager that if he didn’t have himself a date by the fourteenth of February, he’d be forced to drive her everywhere she wanted to go for a whole year.

There was no way he was about to fork over that much of his time to some snotty middle schoolers, but finding someone he’s willing to go out with, a condition of Max’s bet was that it couldn’t just be a hookup, ended up being a lot harder than he anticipated.

Before he knew it, there were only two days left before he either got a date, or subjected himself to the dweeb-orama gang.

He tried to ask Carol, since Tommy dumped her right before the big day and she seemed to be into him, or at least how his ass looked in his jeans, but she tells him she doesn’t want to deal with the drama. So he tries Tommy, but he wants commitment and feels like Billy’s just in it to best Max, which, yeah, he sort of is. Everyone else follows the same pattern, can’t keep up with his reputation, can’t trust him in a relationship, on and on and on.

It’s over breakfast one morning, as he groggily makes him and his sister both a bowl of cereal, that Max asks him, “Why don’t you just ask Steve?”

Billy acts unphased, doesn’t even bother to look at her. “Steve who?”

“C’mon stupid.” His sister rolls her eyes and drags a bowl over towards herself. “Everyone knows you like Steve Harrington.”

“Do not.” He shovels a mouthful of cereal in his mouth.

“Right. Lemme guess, you don’t eat like a pig either?”

“Very funny.” He fixes her with a glare. “I’m serious shitbird, just because I like him doesn’t mean I like him.”

She nods and agrees. “Sure.”

“And just because he's nice to me doesn’t mean I have to have the hots for him.”

“If you insist.” Her bottom lip juts out as she agrees with overemphasis.

“What is your problem?” He snaps.

“I’m just agreeing with you. You don’t like Steve Harrington.” There’s a mischievous smile darkening her sweet face as she tells him matter-of-factly, “But, if you’re really desperate, I know a way to get him to like you.”

And Billy already knows what she means, of course the little shit would suggest something like that. “Nuh-uh. No way, I am not using magic.”

“Why not? Clearly you need it.”

“Because I can do it on my own, brat. Just don’t want to.” He's too defensive for it to not be true and they both know it, so before he lets a thirteen year old do anymore damage to his ego, he adds, “Can't deal with your bull this early.”

Max looks at him all smug like, her eyebrows raised as she hides a knowing smile behind her cereal bowl, but she does let it go, if not just to watch her step brother stew in silent annoyance. She’d gotten under his skin so easy, and she thought it was funny.

Her step brother, on the other hand, does not, and narrows his eyes at her, practically snarling at the look on her face. “Shut up.”

“I wasn’t even saying anything!” She bites back.

Billy grumbles and dumps his bowl in the sink, and leaves to his room to avoid babysitting his sister.

He’s starting to realize that Max had set him up. The real reason she made the stupid bet wasn’t to torture him with driving her and her nerds around, but because she thought she could hook him up with Steve.

But that doesn’t matter, because he's not pining after Steve Harrington, no matter what his little sister says.

Sure, Steve had invited him over to his place a few times, but that was just a courtesy since they were friends from basketball. And it didn’t matter that he happened to be the prettiest boy Billy ever laid eyes on, with his soft hair the color of chestnut and his doe eyes just as dark, and his long nose and his pretty red lips and-

Okay, maybe he was a little into Harrington, but again, he wasn’t going out with his best friend just because his step sister dared him to.

He can’t just call the bet off, but he’s not willing to lose either. The clock was ticking, Valentine’s Day getting closer and closer, so he’d just have to settle on somebody soon.

Admittedly, it would make things a lot easier just to cheap out and use magic, after all, he’d been trying and failing to get a date for weeks, but that could be dangerous, and Billy’s been barred from using his powers for a few years now anyways.

His father was ashamed to have a freak for a son, so ever since Max and her mother came around, he wasn’t actually supposed to use any magic at all anymore, not even for the most insignificant of things. Hell, with how tight of a leash Neil kept on him, his step sister wasn’t even technically supposed to know he’d inherited the knack from his mother.

He doesn’t really listen to that rule, but there’s no way for Neil to keep tabs on that kind of thing, so he still puts a charm on his and his sisters bedroom doors every night to keep unwanted guests out, and he still uses spells for his convenience whenever he can get away with it.

In all honesty, he could do without that stuff. Incantations were boring, spells were too basic. His favorite, the one thing he misses having the liberty to do, that’s got to be potions.

Before his mother’d left him behind, ran off to live the uninhibited life of a free spirit every witch dreamed of having, she had been very proud that Billy had taken after her in his powers, and in his skill for potion making especially.

They would make them together a lot of the time, huddled up down in the basement when his dad wasn’t home so she could show him the ropes and teach him all the recipes she knew.

He’d caught on real quick, well enough that she didn’t need to hover after the first few attempts at one type. Sometimes he wishes he’d been less proficient for just a little longer, so she’d have had a reason to stay and keep helping him.

Among their most common to make though were potions of luck and protection, elixirs, anything positive really. His mother may have also, on occasion, made a more powerful potion, one to keep under the pillows, in a flask on her hip, to spike her husband's coffee with every morning, just so Neil couldn’t hurt her or her son, but Billy was sworn to secrecy on that one.

Under his bed he still had a trunk full to bursting with everything of his mothers’ he had been able to keep, including their already prepared potions. Rows and rows of intricate crystal bottles, some still full to the top while others had only a few drops left, depending on how useful they were, all neatly displayed along with the rest of the memories of his mother.

She absolutely never allowed him to make anything dangerous, the first thing she ever taught him was to always keep hate out of his magic, so she’d let him practice more complicated and powerful potions with something a little less destructive.

Something like love potions.

It becomes his sort of trademark, the earthy smell of rose hips and cinnamon clinging to his skin from hours bent over their big cauldron they kept stored away. Even now, without having brewed anything for almost a year since they’d moved houses, it still lingered, like an aura.

They made up for some of his best work, the hardest of the love potions coming easier to him than the easiest of the medicinal ones. The best he’d ever made was a platonic love potion that his mom let him use the teensiest drop of to stop a fight between his friends at school, and to this day he was still proud of that one.

His mom had always said it made sense that that would be where he excelled, loving with his whole heart was just in his nature, and his craft was the reflection of that. In the same sense, it comes as no surprise when he’d stopped being able to brew anything stronger than potpourri after she’d walked out on him and broke that big heart right in two.

He didn’t know if keeping every of the potions that he made was genuinely because of their potential usefulness, like he tried to convince himself, or if it was a way to hold onto a time when he was still good at what he did. A time when he was happy.

Were he going to use one of those potions he kept stashed away, as Max had not so subtly suggested, he knows exactly which one he would choose. Not number six, not number twenty-seven, he would need number nine.

Not that he would, because he refuses to use his magic for petty relationships. Yet another thing his mom had drilled into him from the start was to never use his gift to take advantage of other people.

But then another day passes, and Billy's got to at least consider it, if not only for the sake of him not having to provide chauffeuring services to his least favorite bratpack.

In all reality, it wouldn’t be so bad to date Steve, he was nice enough and cute enough, but he feels they were sort of of the same polarity. They could get along just fine now, but there was some force, some energy between the two that kept them apart.

For every step they take forward, say, Steve agreeing to keep his magical secret from the moment they met, they have to take one back.

That fact had been well established in his mind since the moment he noticed himself making heart eyes; he and Steve just weren’t going to work out. Not after months of oblivious pigtail pulling, not after pushing Steve out of his own social circle, and definitely not after their fist fight in November.

Billy thinks he takes rejection from Tommy and Carol and everyone else in stride, but Steve wasn’t like them. The relationship they already had teetered on the line between rivals and friends, always one argument away from going back to that place, and Billy’s unwilling to lose that constant.

Of course, he wouldn’t have to worry about rejection and ruining friendships if he used magic.

But that was wrong. Number 9 was the strongest of the strong. It was said that it was powerful enough to make oil and water mix, but even then its effects only lasted for exactly twenty minutes. The jig’d be up quick, and his pretty boy would be right back to hating him.

There was always the slightest chance too that it were brewed just right, and Steve would love him forever, the bond that would form between them the moment he drank from Billy’s magic maybe enough to last, despite their differences. It wasn’t guaranteed to turn out bad, so maybe, just maybe, he’d give it a shot.

Godammit, had Max gotten in his head.

~~~~~

Billy knows he’s an idiot, a complete and total dumbass for showing up to the party with a crystal vial in his pocket, but he can’t help it.

There’s no guarantee he’s even going to use it, it’s just in his pocket as a sort of security blanket. He doesn’t even catch a glimpse of Steve anywhere among the crowd, so he sees no harm in it.

Well, at least not until someone, he’d have to guess it was Tommy, slips a hand into the pocket of Billy’s jacket, apparently able to sense a bottle from a mile away, and steals it. Like it’s just his own secret stash of alcohol instead of the most powerful piece of magic he’d sure as hell ever owned, let alone to have ever been used in Hawkins, a traditionalist town known for its distinct lack of witchcraft.

Only he doesn’t notice that it’s been swiped, not until he catches a glimpse of the gentle pink glow that only he could see in someone else’s hand from across the room, hovering just inches above the punch bowl.

He’d like to think he’s pretty powerful in his craft, he'd been raised by a witch who’d in her time been strong enough to get kicked out of her coven for threatening the High Priest, but in that moment he just sort of freezes.

There’s an infinite number of spells he could’ve used; he knows how to stop time, how to recall objects, and about a thousand and one other handy little ways to stop the vial from being overturned into that bowl.

And yet, his brain freezes up, and before he can do anything about it, there’s a thick fog rolling off of the bowl, and the air smells sweet and sticky like ladies perfume, and the liquid is shining all bright pink.

Billy is officially screwed.

It’s one thing for a single person to drink a love potion, but mixing it with any other liquid? That shit turned into a weapon.

He knows he’s not gonna make it in time, but he’s at least gotta try to stop it, get people as far away from it as possible. He muscles his way across the room, pushing past the crowd of teenagers to try to get to it first. “Nobody fucking touch the punch.”

But his voice calling over the crowd draws their attention to him, and there’s at least fifty hollow gazes fixed right on him. Judging by the looks on their faces, the pinpoint pupils and the awe stricken smiles, he’s too late.

There’s one breathless moment where Billy realizes what's about to happen and tries to back away before all hell breaks loose, but all at once they all surge forward trying to get their hands on him.

Momma didn’t stick around long enough to teach him how to discharge a potion, and he wasn’t going to make it the whole twenty minutes in this herd. The front door is his only escape.

It’s so dark in the room, other than the light from the potion’s ambience, that he can’t make out who’s who, whose lips those are on his neck, whose hands are on his hips and tangled up in his hair, so he just trudges forward as best he can, trying to shake each person off, only to get another wrapped around him.

But, in the magic induced state, they’re strong, and they don’t want to let him go. Fingernails dig into his skin, arms wrap tight around his waist, any way they can hold onto him to try keep him from moving any closer to that door, they do.

It’s like walking in gelatin, so many people trying to stop him, and it takes him way longer than it should, but he makes it to the door.

Before he can open it, someone’s pushing his back up against it and reaching a hand up under his shirt. Another someone presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

He feels blindly for the door knob and gets it in his hand after a few attempts, the ordeal being all the harder when there were so many people who wanted those hands on them, and twists it.

The rush of cold air from outside and the lights from the streetlight on the sidewalk helps a little to dilute the strength of the potion, weakening just enough the grip of those under his influence that he can wriggle out and slam the door shut behind him.

He keeps his back pressed against it, his arms holding on to either side of the door frame as tight as he could so nobody else can get out. Checking his watch, there were still about seven more minutes until the potion would wear off.

He could see the faintest glow of pink light shining from under the door and behind the curtains on the front window, and he thought about what they were doing without him. Probably talking about how he was the coolest, the ones who’d gotten their hands on him bragging.

No one but him would remember what happened anyways.

To make his escape, wait out the rest of the potion's effects, and hightail it before anybody remembered he was even here, well, that would have just been too easy. Because this is Billy Hargrove, so of course, at that very moment, who would approach the house but Steve fucking Harrington.

“Hargrove?” He looks confusedly up at Billy, and climbs a few of the porch steps to ask him, “What’re you doin’ out here man?”

“Party’s a bummer. Thinking ‘bout ditching.” The nonchalance he’s able to portray in his voice is in direct contrast with the way his hair is frizzed out and his clothes are all messy from what happened inside.

Steve doesn’t seem to pay it any mind though, because he offers him a smile, and responds to Billy like this situation didn’t look weird at all, with him sprawled out over the door and in such bad shape. “Mind if I join you? Wasn’t really looking forward to all the people tonight anyways.”

“Uh, if you give me,” Billy turns his wrist, still not letting go of the door, and reads the time on his watch again, “three and a half minutes, then we can blow.”

Steve leans a little to try to see in the window. “Is somethin’ going on?”

“Nothin’, nothin’ just uh, told Tom I’d stay ‘til quarter after.” It’s a bullshit excuse, Steve already knows he and Tommy aren’t even that close, but Billy just focuses on counting down the seconds and doesn’t think too much about it. “And…. we’re good.”

“You are so weird, dude.” Steve remarks while he waits for Billy on the steps. He looks back over his shoulder when they’re walking away but visibly shrugs it off. “Did you drive?”

“You know I don’t park my baby on the street.” His prized Camaro had yet to make an appearance at one of these parties, for a platitude of reasons, but the main one being that he might have to break his mother’s golden rule and put a curse on someone if his beauty got so much as a scratch.

“Figures.” Steve remarked. He didn’t think the Camaro was all that, thought it was too loud and too fast.

His BMW isn’t too far off, showing up late meant he had to take a street spot instead of cramming into the driveway, but that only made it easier to get out.

While he starts it up, he asks Billy, “Where are we going? I picked last time.”

“Far away from here as possible.” He mutters in response.

Before he pulls away from the curb, Steve asks, “Did something happen, Bills? You’re acting all, weird.” There was genuine concern laced into his voice, none of that playfulness that they usually had.

But for Billy, anything would be better than having to own up to what had happened. He’d have to admit to the whole, desperate for love, he used a potion he made when he was seven to try to make Steve Harrington fall for him, and that was not ideal, to put it simply.

Only, he felt obligated to explain, because he knew what Steve was thinking had happened. He knew too much about the sorts of things Billy told not a single other soul.

His magic was one thing. Where nobody was really supposed to know Hawkins got a new spell caster for the first time in ages, Steve had some grandma or someone who was a witch and had recognized that shit in a heartbeat.

Observational skills like that, it was no surprise he’d figured out the truth about his father too. About where the bruises and the scars came from.

So he knows that’s what Steve’s thinking right now, that Billy’s acting off because of something his dad did, and it would feel wrong not to tell him the truth, to be pitied when nothing even happened this time. Still, he’s not exactly thrilled about having to confess about the potion.

“Someone brought a fucking Number 9 to the party.” Billy flips the sun visor down to see himself in the little mirror there. There’s kiss marks all over him that he tries to rub off with his sleeve, but the leather doesn’t do much but make the skin flush.

“Shit, not a number nine.” Steve says it like he’s confident in it, but his gaze keeps flickering over to Billy to gauge his reaction. It’s clear that he has no idea what he’s talking about. “What's- what’s number nine?”

Billy snorts and explains, “Only the strongest love potion out there. Went straight into the punch.”

He doesn’t have much of a grip on the magical world, but he knew enough to guess that was a problem. “What kind of a dipstick would bring that?”

Billy stopped wiping at his face and looked over at Steve with that ‘come on, stupid’ look on his face. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe the only dipstick who walked away from the place covered in fucking lipstick.”

“Really?” There’s a teasing tone in his voice, like a parent who found out there kid had a crush, and it makes Billy want to sock him. “And who does Billy Hargrove need a love potion for?”

“For you.” It takes all the courage he has, but he admits it. His eyes flicker nervously between Steve and everywhere else, waiting for his response.

And what he gets is, “Pfft. You know I don’t need magic to get the ladies.” Let it be known that no one ever accused Steve of being the brightest.

As if he hadn’t noticed that Steve was a skeezer. As if his heart hadn’t already been broken a thousand times over because of it. “Yeah, no shit.”

He furrows his eyebrows in confusion, but maybe a little bit in denial too. “Then why’d you bring me a love potion?”

“Steve.” It sounds like a plea, an exhausted attempt to get him to understand, but Steve isn’t in on it.

“What?” Billy just sort of raises his eyebrows in response, and something about it makes it click in Steve’s head.

His mouth forms an ‘o’ shape, and when he speaks again, his voice is all breathless, “You were going to use it on me?”

“Doesn’t take a genius.” And that’s the end of it.

They don’t talk about it. Steve drives them out to the quarry in silence, occasionally looking over at Billy like he wants to say something, but doesn’t.

As soon as they get there, before Steve’s even got the chance to put the bimmer in park, Billy’s out of the car and sitting on the edge of the rocky lookout.

He needs a smoke, needs the burning in his lungs to distract him from the weight of what he had just admitted to Steve. His hands are shaking as he fumbles with a match, trying and failing to light the cigarette on three different matches before he decides to give up.

Steve taps his shoulder and hands Billy his zippo before sitting down next to him. “You didn’t have to.”

Billy lights it up and takes a long drag, giving Steve back his light with a cigarette as thanks, filling his lungs with as much smoke as he can before he can respond. “Have to what?”

“Try to use magic on me.” Steve’s staring down at his hands, calculating every last word he says. “You could’ve just asked.”

“Yeah, I know Harrington. It was creepy. Just drop it.” There’s a sharpness in that tone that hasn’t been there for months, and it makes the both of them wince.

Steve explains himself, hurt by the coldness, “No, I think it’s sweet! I mean, that you would do that for me.”

“Get over yourself. Was just messin’ around, wanted to see if I could do it.” That’s what gives him away. Billy was too sure of his own prowess for that to be all of it, and so Steve decides to press him for the truth.

“Don’t you want to know what I would’ve said though, if you asked me?”

“Honestly? No.” He really, really does.

Steve pretends like he doesn’t hear that and tells him anyways. “I like you Billy.”

It hitches his breath to hear that, but Billy’s got to be rational. “Yeah? You like me or the cinnamon?”

Steve’s face scrunches up in confusion. “What?”

“It’s an ingredient in the potion, Steve. Do you mean it or did you get a whiff of that shit somehow?” He still doesn’t look at him, just stares down at the churning water, and it registers with Steve that he doesn’t want to see absent admiration, pinpoint pupils, any sign that this isn’t real.

So he assures him, his voice as soft as it can be, “I mean it. I really really like you, and if you’re not gonna believe me, then- then I guess I’ll just have to prove it.“

Who would’ve expected Steve to make the first move? Stumbling, bumbling Steve Harrington, the one to lean in first. But he is, it’s him who uses those long fingers to turn Billy’s face towards his and presses their lips together.

If, you know, there wasn’t a more pressing matter at hand, like the fact that the boy he’d just tried to use love magic on was kissing him without the assistance of said magic, Billy might’ve been a little disappointed in himself to not be the one to initiate it.

But they’d have time for that argument later, about who did what when, right now his mind was more focused on not just sitting there, on moving his lips against the other boys and

It feels like forever before Steve pulls away to put a hand on the back of Billy’s head so he can bring their foreheads together.

Steve’s breathless as he says, “Wanted to do that since the first time I saw you in the parking lot.”

“Good. Didn’t want to have to brew any more.” Billy says without a hint of seriousness.

Steve nudges him with his elbow. “I’m trying to be romantic, you ass.”

“No seriously, hibiscus is super hard to come by around here, couldn’t afford to waste any on you.”

Crossing his arms, Steve fixes Billy with a stern look that makes him laugh.

“M’only teasin’ ya pretty boy.” He crumples his cigarette into the asphalt and puts his hand on Steve’s knee. “Kiss me like that again, would ya?”

And he does. Every time Billy asks, Steve’ll kiss him just like that first time, soft and gentle and sweet in a way he’s never had, no magic required.

Needless to say, Billy definitely won that bet.

#harringrove week of love #harringrove #billy x steve #billy hargrove #steve harrington #ej writer #story by ej!#this is based on a fraggles episode! I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity!#I thought I wasn’t going to like this but it turned out to be one of my favorites #even though it took way longer than it was supposed to lol #super proud of how it turned out though

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sxfterhearts · 4 years ago

Text

42. [7:35 pm]

➳ pairing: youngjae x reader ft. amateur chef!jaebeom

➳ genre/warnings: fluff, just fluff, mildly suggestive towards the end (I haven’t written in ages so I guess that’s also a warning??)

➳ word count: 1,190 words

➳ summary: “Is this okay?”

➳ author's note: see below!!

“Speak up, hyung!” Youngjae breathed heavily into the microphone of his earphones. “I can’t hear anything you’re saying!”

“Young– Give me a sec,” He heard Jaebeom draw a deep breath before bellowing out an ear-piercing “Keep it down, Bam, or I’ll whoop your ass!”

Youngjae flinched, his sweaty palm nearly losing its grip on the rubber spatula.

It was an early Friday night in. He had purposely rushed back to your shared apartment the moment the clock hands struck five. Not that this wasn’t a regular occurrence, but he wanted to be extra early tonight in order to execute his plan. Youngjae thought of the perfect way to spend your first Friday after starting a new job at a well-known company in the city. Your boyfriend, being the attentive and caring person he was, intended to treat you to a bubble bath while he prepared a wholesome three course meal for you. Or at least, he was trying to.

“Sorry, Bambam’s just… being Bambam. You know how it is. Now, where was I?” Jaebeom paused, musing over his thoughts like an old man suffering from short-term memory loss.

Youngjae grit his teeth in frustration and stress as he watched the concoction of dark chocolate chips and butter melt before his very eyes. Who would’ve thought baking brownies could’ve been this stressful? “The chocolate. I melted the chocolate chips with the butter over the stove. What’s next?”

“I’m pretty sure you have to crack the eggs into the bowl. Oh wait, no, no. You have to add the vanilla extract first. Just a tiny bit, though. We don’t want it to overpower the chocolatey taste.”

“How much? Two tablespoons?”

“Are you crazy? This is a chocolate brownie, not a vanilla cupcake. A teaspoon should be fine, I think. Or was it a quarter? Shit…”

The man closed his eyes to contain his anger and heaved a large sigh. “If you just wrote down the recipe we wouldn’t be in this position, hyung…”

The elder completely dismissed his comment. “Try a teaspoon. I’m like, ninety-nine percent sure I’m right.”

Youngjae had no other choice but to oblige. After all, everyone knew, including you and the boys, that he could not bake to save his life.

And yet, here he was, trying his hands at baking your favourite dessert – brownies. He even bought the premium vanilla ice cream that you liked to quenelle on top of it later (thankfully it was on sale). Youngjae really wanted to pamper you tonight.

“It’s not that difficult, right, Youngjae? This recipe is foolproof. My cousin tried it last month and he’s only twelve.”

Youngjae wasn’t too sure about that. Sceptical, he cracked three room-temperature eggs into the gooey, fragrant chocolate mixture. “Won’t the eggs cook in the chocolate ‘cos it’s boiling hot?”

Silence.

“Hyung?”

“Listen, Youngjae, I’m not a baking god. I don’t know the answer to every single question you have. Just do as I say and pray really hard that your brownies will turn out well.” Jaebeom snapped. “Have you mixed the eggs? You have to make sure the mixture is incorporated well and as shiny as Jackson’s forehead on a hot day.”

A commotion broke out on the other end of the line. Youngjae assumed it was due to Jaebeom’s offhanded comment about the state of Jackson’s skin.

“The last thing you have to do is just mix in the flour and cocoa powder, then you can pour it into the baking pan. It has to be a square one, nine by nine inches and lined with baking paper. Oh, and you need to grease the bottom of the pan first.”

Youngjae’s mouth hung open in disbelief. “You could’ve told me this earlier! I don’t– What is nine by nine inches? Why are you even using inches, we’re in Korea!” He huffed exasperatedly.

“Twenty-three centimetres, you doofus. Find one, hurry! Otherwise the mixture will harden.”

After rummaging through your stash of baking supplies for a good five minutes, he finally found the all-important baking pan. With Jaebeom’s uniquely reassuring words, Youngjae eventually managed to pour the batter in and placed the pan into the oven with trembling hands. The boy was nervous – he just wanted everything to be perfect tonight.

Somewhere between the fifteen-minute mark and an endless string of ridiculously cute puppy videos, the door’s keypad beeped. Standing up straight, Youngjae pulled off his chocolate-stained apron and jogged towards the door in anticipation.

“Youngjae, guess what! Oh,” You paused mid-sentence, your head poking curiously into the apartment as the brownie’s fragrant aroma tickled your senses. “What smells so good? Did you bake?”

“Hey baby!” Youngjae greeted like his usual bright self, your previous bursts of stress long forgotten. He reached for your handbag and laptop bag, gently ushering you into the comforts of your home. “I did. You’re in for a relaxing night, my darling. I’ve already ran you a bath, and you can use one of your sparkly pink bath bombs.” You couldn’t take off your shoes fast enough the moment you heard the word ‘relax’.

Your mouth fell slightly agape as you held Youngjae’s buttery hands in yours, eyes filled to the brim with fascination and gratitude. “You did?”

“Yes, baby. Go! Take off your clothes and get soaking. Dinner will be ready in another half an hour.” Youngjae guided you towards the ensuite, where he ran the waters and tested the temperature just moments earlier.

You gladly welcomed his suggestion. After all, the best way to unwind after a long day of work was to soak in glittery rose-scented water and allow the knots upon knots of worries to melt away.

Your mind solely focussed on the motions of shucking off your pencil skirt and unbuttoning your blouse once you released the bath bomb. The sweet aroma overtook your senses and overpowered your stress.

A sigh involuntarily left your lips as you sank into the warm, perfumed water. Picking up the book Youngjae thoughtfully left on the edge of the bathtub, you repositioned yourself into a comfortable position. The distant humming coming from Youngjae in the kitchen, the gentle sloshing of water as you flipped the pages and the wonderful feeling of soaking your sore muscles… Nothing could get better than this.

Youngjae appeared twenty pages later to feed you a slice of his freshly baked brownies. Crouching down by your side, he inspected your facial features for any reaction with complete earnest.

“I hope that it’s okay. Is this okay?” He breathed.

“It’s more than okay, it’s everything that I need…” You paused, tongue running repeatedly over the edges of your lips in search of brownie remnants. “What did you put in these brownies, babe?”

“I… Is it… Bad? Does it taste funny? I–”

“No, not at all!” You giggled. “It’s so, so, so good! I could eat this for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Speaking of dinner…”

“The entrée is still cooking on the stove.” Youngjae admitted sheepishly.

“Hmm… That’s a shame. I’m hungry for a different type of dinner.”

“Wh… What do you mean?”

“I meant, I’d love to have you for dinner. Come, join me.”

➳ author's note: woah ok!! I started this towards the end of my last internship and finally mustered up the courage, strength, mental capacity etc etc to finish it off. I’m sorry if its lacklustre (which im sure it is) but just really really wanted to post this!!! (im busting with excitement omgomg) I’ve been busy with internships and having existential crises and also (ngl) procrastinated with my writing and this blog which is why I’ve been sosososoo absent. I don’t want to make empty promises but yeah, I hope to get back into tumblr again! Honestly was in such a good headspace when I was active on here, I miss it sm, I miss interacting with you guys omg okay I will stop rambling. Good night I love you ALL!!!

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litwitlady · 4 years ago

Text

Never Have I Ever (5/?)

Read the Board Game Verse on AO3.

The next Friday night Michael shows up early and with a list of demands. ‘Put on some warm clothes and grab a couple of blankets you don’t mind getting dirty. We’re taking this show on the road.’ He heads into Alex’s kitchen to pilfer the fridge, and Alex doesn’t bother asking questions, he just does as told.

Outside at Michael’s truck, they toss the blankets and whatever Michael took from his kitchen into the bed. ‘Your firepit? Where are we going?’

‘The desert. Our old spot. Hop in.’ A little thrill shivers down Alex’s spine as he climbs into the Chevy. In all their years of each other, spending the night in the desert has only ever ended one way.

Their drive out is twenty minutes of quiet, radio softly playing between them. Michael’s window is down despite the chill, and Alex enjoys the way the wind dances through his hair, making a mess of his curls. Every couple of miles, Michael glances over at him with a promise-painted smile, the same way he used to when they were seventeen.

They turn off the highway, tires kicking up dust clouds behind them. Beyond the mountains the sun is setting, pink and purple and orange flames licking at the first stars daring to blink down at them. The desert around them looks the same as it ever does with pockets of snow still unmelted from the season’s first snowfall. Eventually, two familiar mesquite trees appear and it’s like coming home, both of them breathing a little easier.

Michael puts the truck in park. ‘This place never changes.’ He slides out of the Chevy and before Alex has even set foot on solid ground, he’s managed to float everything out of the bed and onto the desert floor. ‘You want to sit on the ground or would the tailgate be easier?’

He looks nervous and that makes Alex nervous. ‘On the ground, near the fire. Just need a hand getting down there.’ He reaches out to Michael, asking for help but also offering comfort for whatever anxiety is biting at both their heels. Michael helps him onto the blanket and plops down beside him, the fire close enough to keep the encroaching sting of autumn winds at bay.

Scattered around them is an array of food. Everything from paninis oozing melted cheese to a handmade Greek salad from a recipe Michael had found at Isobel’s house while rummaging through her cookbooks. ‘I might have gone a bit overboard, but in my defense, I skipped lunch and was starving.’

Alex is already halfway through one of the paninis, eyes closed in satisfaction. ‘This is delicious.’ Michael makes a mental note to keep the panini maker he’d borrowed from Max. It’s not like Max ever uses it anyway.

Once they’ve eaten their way around the blanket, Michael gets back up and removes a large black case from his truck. ‘There’s a reason I wanted to come out here tonight.’ He winks down at Alex. ‘And no, it’s not the reason you’ve been thinking since I first mentioned the desert.’ Alex looks away quickly, hiding the disappointment that suddenly floods his face.

Michael doesn’t notice, too busy pulling a large telescope from the velvet lining inside the opened case. ‘Mars is brighter than it’s been in years this month. I’ve been itching to get out here and have a look. Isobel gifted me the telescope on our shared birthday in June. I was going to pawn it.’ He shrugs and peeks his eye through the eyepiece, adjusting the fingerscope per the instructions he’s found on his phone.

Alex looks up at the night sky and finds Mars with his naked eye. It is extraordinarily bright, a glowing pink orb rising through the inky black expanse of space. And when Michael finally captures it in the lens of the telescope, he gasps and grabs at Alex’s arm. ‘You can see so much detail. All the pockmarks and craters. And the dust looks almost orange. It’s amazing. Look.’

He drags the telescope closer to Alex so he doesn’t have to move much, checking through the eyepiece one last time to focus directly on the red star. Leaning back on his heels, Michael motions at Alex to take his place and turns his own eyes upward. They are both looking at the same star but he also knows they are seeing something entirely different. He huffs out a sharp laugh which draws Alex’s eye away from the telescope. ‘What’s so funny?’

‘Nothing. Just metaphors and nonsense. The ways that perspectives get so warped and are so hard to understand when everyone doesn’t have the same telescope.’ Alex gives him a funny look and Michael laughs outright. ‘I’ve been hanging around Max too much.’

Alex shakes his head gently. ‘No. I think I get what you’re saying. For a long time, we’ve wanted the same thing, but we’ve been coming at it from our own messy angles. I’ve often thought we were similar to the codes I break. We’re on the same page, but written in a language the other needs help translating.’ Michael nods at him, smiling sweet.

They spend an hour searching through the various stars and distant galaxies before a growing ache in Alex’s chest pushes him to ask a question he’s been holding inside since they decided to work on their friendship weeks ago. ‘One day you’ll be able to find your star. The one you’ve been searching for since you crawled from that pod. And you’ll figure out how to finish building your ship.’ He pauses to collect himself, already feeling the emotion in his chest threatening to overwhelm him. ‘One day, you’ll be able to go home.’ His eyes start to burn with unshed tears, but he keeps going, meeting Michael’s gaze with determination and readying the fortress around his heart he was so sure he wouldn’t need anymore. ‘Is that still what you want?’

Michael reaches up and swipes at the first tear that falls from the corner of Alex’s eye. ‘I found my star a long time ago. And I’m not going anywhere without you.’

Alex drops his eyes to his hands. ‘I have no right to ask that of you. I know that. Not after all the leaving I did.’ He tugs nervously at the hem of his shirt, hands starting to shake with the cold. ‘But I’m never going anywhere without you ever again. I promise.’

‘I know.’ Michael grabs an extra blanket and wraps it tight around Alex. ‘So what’s tonight’s game? Didn’t see you toss anything into the bed when we were leaving.’

They both lean back against the Chevy’s tire. Alex stretches the blanket around Michael’s shoulders so that they are sharing more than just the woven wool’s warmth. ‘How about the classic drinking game, Never Have I Ever? Sans alcohol but with a new twist.’ He grins, lips sharpening at the edges and eyes darkening with dare. ‘Instead of taking a drink, you have to kiss the other person.’

Michael snorts. ‘So we’re just soundly saying goodbye to the friends experiment then?’

‘No. Platonic kisses only. No kissing on the mouth and no use of tongue.’ Alex hears the bullshit in his words and knows Michael does too. His nerves return and he begins to second guess himself. ‘Or we can play like normal. There’s still plenty of wine left. Or not at all. I’m happy to just sit here with you too.’

‘That’s okay. I like the new rules. Not much of a wine guy anyway. Who goes first?’

‘Me.’ Alex sits up a little straighter and spends a fair amount of time considering his first move. ‘Never have I ever used my telekinesis to do literally anything.’ He follows the statement with a cheeky grin, clearly quite proud of himself.

‘Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be? That’s how we’re going to play?’ Alex tries to suppress the manic giggle that bubbles up in his throat but loses the fight pretty quickly. Michael shakes his head. ‘Have a placement preference?’

‘Nope. I’m looking forward to wherever you choose.’ He blushes and struggles to meet Michael’s eye, muscles tensing in anticipation once he feels Michael shift against him.

A breeze nestles between them, but neither of them notices. The cool air doing absolutely nothing to assuage the heat pulsing between them. Michael presses his lips to Alex’s temple, less a kiss than a remembrance of every kiss that has come before. Alex closes his eyes and lets this new memory burn a spot next to all the others.

It’s strange. Michael has kissed him goodbye dozens of times over the past few weeks. None of them half as affecting as this barely glancing touch.

Abruptly, Michael pulls away. ‘Never have I ever gone to war.’

Alex reopens his eyes at the sound of Michael’s voice. ‘If we keep this up, we’re going to dig ourselves into a hole, Guerin. One we can’t get out of.’ He brings his fingers up to the sleeve of Michael’s shirt. ‘You told me to dress warm when all you’re wearing is this thin t-shirt.’ Michael watches as Alex slowly guides the sleeve up over the top of his arm. Alex bows his head far enough to leave a trail of rough, chapped kisses where the bony end of his collarbone meets his shoulder.

Michael’s breath hitches the instant Alex doesn’t stop with one single kiss. The dry scrape of his lips sending goosebumps down to his toes, his heartbeat a staccato rhythm echoing throughout his entire body. ‘That doesn’t feel at all platonic.’ His voice is low and strained, edged with the desire to flatten Alex hard against the wool blanket beneath them.

Alex smiles and smacks his shoulder with one last loud kiss. ‘I guess that depends on your perspective. Never have I ever stepped foot on another planet.’

‘How about I share a little bit of my perspective with you?’ He scoots impossibly nearer to Alex, hand cupping his cheek and tilting their mouths dangerously closer. Their breaths mingle together although Alex is almost certain he’s not breathing at all anymore. Michael’s lips hover over Alex’s, the anticipation building to a crescendo they’ve both been waiting for since five Friday nights ago at the Wild Pony. And it doesn’t matter how many times they’ve kissed before. Because there’s never, not once been this much hope waiting for them on the other side.

When Michael’s lips finally land on Alex’s skin, they narrowly miss his mouth. Instead they fall at the corner of his lips, a sliver away from touching home. Alex exhales, half-groaning with the comedown. He’d been sure, so sure this was their moment. Swallowing down what he really wants to say, Alex turns to Michael just as he pulls away. ‘Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.’

‘I think this was the best idea.’ He tilts his head and smiles at Alex so beyond innocent that Alex yelps when Michael pushes his shoulders roughly onto the blanket and slides effortlessly between Alex’s welcoming thighs. Alex barely has time to take another breath before Michael’s mouth steals it away, sucking at his bottom lip so desperately Alex has to lift his head to chase after Michael’s urgency.

The kiss is needy, both of them grasping at each other like they’re dangling off a cliff holding on with nothing more than their fingertips. Michael’s hands tug at Alex’s hair, jagged, work-worn nails digging into the softness of his scalp without apology. And Alex fills the gaps between Michael’s ribs with his fingers, feeling Michael’s lungs expand with each new, shuddering breath. Eventually twisting Michael’s t-shirt so tight in his fists it rips at the seams.

One kiss becomes two becomes twenty until neither knows whose tongue is whose anymore. Michael’s shirt is long gone and Alex’s pants are shoved halfway down his thighs before either of them has the sense to stop. ‘Your skin is like ice, Alex. It’s too cold out here for this, even with the fire.’ His breathing is ragged, his chest heaving. Leaning back on his knees, he helps Alex back into his jeans, despite his ardent protests that he’s not too cold, and grabs the remaining blanket to wrap around them. Even with two thick, wool blankets, the night air is still harsh enough to make both of them shiver. ‘Maybe we should go back to your place.’

‘No. Please not yet.’ Alex shifts closer to Michael, joining their bodies wherever he can reach. Laying his head on Michael’s chest, he hums in satisfaction at the steady beat of his heart. ‘You’ll keep me warm. Tell me about the stars like you used to.’ Alex points to a random patch of desert sky. ‘Isn’t that Polaris?’

Michael snorts into Alex’s hair. ‘You’ve always been so bad at this. You can’t really see the North Star from here. It’s not bright enough.’ He drags Alex’s still-raised finger to another part of the sky. ‘That’s Gemini. The twins. I’ve always thought of me and Max as Castor and Pollux. But the version where only one of them, Pollux probably, is immortal.’

‘Max is Pollux, I’m guessing?’

Michael nods, chin tapping against the top of his head. ‘Yes.’

The stars glow brighter as Michael spends the next hour recounting so many of their mysteries, fingertips dancing up and down Alex’s arm like he’s tattooing the stories into his skin. Alex pretends like he’s never heard them before when in reality he’s had them all memorized for over a decade. The stars and Michael’s stories are what had kept his first tour overseas from chewing him up and spitting him out.

Tilting his chin, Alex kisses into Michael’s neck, leaving a sloppy trail in his wake as he nibbles up to his ear. ‘Take me home.’

The warmth of Alex’s house beckons as they pile everything back into the truck. With no traffic, they pull into the driveway in record time, not bothering to unpack the Chevy before heading inside and straight to Alex’s bedroom. They collapse onto the bed and undress each other slowly, allowing the furnace’s heat to melt them into nothing but nerve-endings and sensation, their sweat-slick skin sliding smoothly together.

Once they’re sated and sleepy, Michael throws a leg over Alex’s thighs and wraps an arm around his waist, tugging him as close as possible. ‘I guess we’re dating now.’

#malex #malex fic

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flowerfan2 · 4 years ago

Text

A Lot of Sinks

“Your sister has done it on a lot of sinks,” Patrick says. “Maybe we should try it.”

Coda to S05e10, Roadkill. A03.

Patrick is on his way back from the tax seminar when his phone vibrates with so many texts it slides off the seat onto the floorboard. He pulls over to the side of the road to check, just in case there’s an actual emergency, and then sends back a quick message letting David know he’ll be home soon.

It doesn’t take long to make a quick stop at a liquor store and their favorite burger place. He figures having something to help David’s mood will be worth it, given that his day has included not just the discovery that Wendy’s new business venture is a rip-off of Rose Apothecary but also that Alexis and Ted have wreaked havoc on the store’s newly renovated bathroom. In contrast, Patrick’s day of listening to moderately boring talks about small business tax issues was completely drama-free.

David swans up to Patrick as soon as he enters the apartment, launching into a detailed description of Alexis’ atrocious conduct and how this even tops the incident with the Tamagotchis. Patrick deposits his bags on the counter and turns to David, placing a finger on his lips.

David’s eyes go wide, but he stops talking.

“Give me five minutes,” Patrick says. “Go sit down on the couch, and let me get our dinner ready.”

“But-” David starts, his lips brushing Patrick’s fingertip.

“Nope. I’ll listen to all of it in five minutes. Go.”

David’s face is a combination of astonished and amused, with perhaps a bit of arousal as well. He gives Patrick a smile that twists up one corner of his mouth, and sits himself down on the couch as instructed, crossing one leg gracefully over the other and lacing his fingers together on top of his knee.

Patrick turns away from him and focuses on the task at hand. It’s harder to do than he anticipated - David is such a sight for sore eyes, and he’s tempted to throw his plans away and himself into David’s arms – but he thinks it will be worth it.

He puts the burgers and fries into the oven to keep them warm. It’s not ideal, but it turns out that a good burger is a good burger, even reheated. He takes the two chocolate milkshakes and pours them into a blender, and adding generous doses of his purchases from the liquor store – Bailey’s Irish Cream and vodka. He adds a few ice cubes and pulses the blender a few times, then pours it into tall glasses, with plenty left over for seconds.

Patrick drops the straws in and takes a long sip. His creation still tastes mostly like ice cream, so Patrick adds more vodka on top of each milkshake. It’s not a precise recipe by any means.

Satisfied, he checks his watch, sets the timer on the oven for a few more minutes, and brings the drinks over to David.

David takes one of the milkshakes and ponders it curiously.

“Taste it,” Patrick says, and David does, his lips pursing around the straw. “What do you think?”

“Oh, may I speak now?” David asks coyly.

“Please.”

David blinks his eyelashes at Patrick and wiggles a little bit. “Well, I applaud your efforts. Especially the vodka floater. Genius.”

“You don’t think there’s too much alcohol in there?”

David snorts. “You realize that my drink of choice is a vaguely chocolate and peppermint flavored shot?”

“I do. I thought this might appeal to you too, what with the chocolate and all.”

“There is definitely something appealing here,” David drawls, leaning in close. “And it’s not just this delicious boozy dessert.” David kisses Patrick, his lips cold from the milkshake, and then pulls back. “But today was insane, and that’s before Alexis and Ted lied to my face. Ted! You have to let me tell you about it.”

“I will. I just thought it would be more fun this way.”

“If I was drunk?”

“If you were happily enjoying a sweet adult beverage.”

“Mmm.” David takes a long sip of his milkshake. “You are correct.”

David proceeds to tell the story of the vaguely David-like man who conned Wendy into selling rip-offs of luxury goods, and how they discovered the ruse and saved Wendy from certain disaster in business and love, and then he launches into the Alexis debacle. In between dramatic sweeps of his free hand he slurps at the milkshake, his face growing ever more expressive.

When David finally takes a breath Patrick leans in and kisses him, hot and determined, with plenty of tongue for good measure. David abandons his rant and returns the kiss with enthusiasm, climbing into Patrick’s lap. Patrick is about to let his brain completely derail when the timer on the oven goes off.

“What now?” David exclaims, as if the evening has been a series of cockblocks.

“Our burgers,” Patrick says, reluctantly shoving David off his lap.

“Let them burn, I don’t care,” David grabs at Patrick as he moves away. Patrick is tempted, but the timer won’t stop buzzing and he doesn’t want to piss off the neighbors.

David follows him to the kitchen, pouring the remainder of the milkshakes from the blender into their glasses. He checks out the burgers and fries and nods. “Diner night with bonus alcohol. I like it.”

“Thought you would.”

They stand at the counter and feed each other bites of the deliciously salty fries, but soon enough they’re just kissing again, David looping his hands around Patrick’s neck and Patrick tugging at David’s hips. Patrick shifts them so that David is leaning up against the counter, and David slouches a little so that their hips are aligned. Patrick slots a thigh between David’s legs and David lets out a low moan. “Mmm, yes, come here,” David murmurs, reaching around to grab Patrick’s ass, but his arm must hit something behind him on the way because there’s a clatter and then-

“Oh god, I can’t. I just can’t,” David says, his face red and his eyes wide.

“What?” Patrick’s brain is mostly offline at this point.

“The – the sink,” David says, gasping out a laugh. “You’ve got me – up against the sink.”

Patrick glances at the sink, where the bottle of dish soap has fallen down. It doesn’t seem particularly funny. Then he remembers the story about Alexis.

“Your sister has done it on a lot of sinks,” he says. “Maybe you should try it.”

David glares at him. “Mkay, that is not happening.”

“It almost did.” Of course, getting David up on the counter would do nothing to help out their height difference, but Patrick is tempted to try it anyway. It would put certain of his body parts at a convenient height for Patrick to reach.

“It most certainly did not.” David takes Patrick by the arm and pulls him away from the kitchen. “And I’ll thank you not to bring images of my sister into this.” David waves his hand between them. “Just, ew.”

“You started it.”

“No, you did.” David flops down on the couch, and Patrick sits next to him. “Ugh. Now I can’t stop thinking of Alexis’s naked…skin… on sinks. Could anything be more unhygienic? Do you thinks she cleans it off first? Or afterward?” David looks horrified.

“Kind of killed the mood, huh?” Patrick asks, as David slumps next to him. Patrick tugs until David is curled up with his head in Patrick’s lap, and starts threading his fingers through David’s hair.

David presses into his touch and lets out a little hum of approval. Patrick had assumed, when they first started dating, that David wouldn’t let him anywhere near his hair. Turns out he was wrong. David doesn’t let most people near it, but Patrick is not most people.

“I’m sorry you had such a crappy day,” Patrick says. “I wish I could have been with you.”

“Ugh, no, I’m glad you weren’t. You would have been furious.”

“About Alexis?” Patrick rather thinks he would have been amused – although come to think of it, a broken sink means he’ll have to deal with Ronnie again, which is not going to go well.

“I was thinking about Wendy ripping off our store, actually.” David twists in Patrick’s lap, looking up at him. “She says everyone’s doing general stores just like ours.”

“I doubt that.”

“I guess it wasn’t as good an idea you thought.”

Patrick knows that the insecurity he hears in David’s voice is real. He wishes it wasn’t the case, but he knows David Rose, and self-doubt comes with the territory. He just needs to do his job and balance him out. It’s why they work so well together. “Come on, who are you going to believe, Wendy or me?”

“I suppose.”

“I’m the one that’s going to all these conferences, and I can tell you that no one else is doing what we do. Bringing locally sourced products together under a common brand, with such a high degree of quality control? With exclusive vendor arrangements? Your idea was unique, David. Our store is one of a kind, and nothing Wendy does to mimic it is going to change it.”

“Do you really think so?” David sits up and waves his hands in frustration as he speaks. “What if Wendy had kept going with her inferior products? Where would that leave us?”

Patrick takes David’s hands and catches his gaze. “We would be right where we are – with a successful store that reflects your creative brilliance and my unerring business sense.”

David blushes and gives Patrick a sideways smile. “Would we call it ‘unerring’? Then how do you explain the fact that our sink collapsed today?”

“Hey, I’m not the one that left Alexis there unsupervised.”

“Perhaps that was part of my creative brilliance,” David says, his smile growing.

“You’re right, I’m sure deconstructed bathrooms are all the rage. Great plan.”

“It’s probably better that Alexis broke the sink. What if it had been a customer? They could sue. This was an accident waiting to happen.”

“Your sister, or the sink?”

David grins and leans forward to capture Patrick’s lips in a kiss, pressing him back against the couch. “How about we stop talking about my sister now?” David says in a low voice that sends sparks down Patrick’s spine.

“Now that’s the creative brilliance I was talking about.”

#David x Patrick #David Rose #Patrick Brewer #Schitt's Creek fic #Schitt's Creek

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